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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866440">Road (Trip) To Ruin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarn_Liberated/pseuds/Tarn_Liberated'>Tarn_Liberated</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Injury, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), But not for a long time I said slow burn and I meant it, Caliginous-Flushed Vacillation, Enemies to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Protagonist, Feral Behavior, GHB is psychotic, GHB tries to kill the reader every now and then, Hemospectrum, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Instability, Mild Language Barrier, Minor Original Character(s), Modern AU, Multi, Mystery, Other, Prison AU, Quadrant Confusion, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Wrongful Imprisonment, keeps the relationship spicy you know, one more main character to be introduced as far as I know, quadrant flipping, reader - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:41:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>108,678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarn_Liberated/pseuds/Tarn_Liberated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being found guilty for murder is pretty bad as a human. It’s even worse when you’re sent to a <i>troll</i> prison after you’ve been charged with mass murder of trollkind like some deranged serial killer and everyone there hates you.</p><p>You think, by far, the worst part about this whole thing is you are 100% certain you’re innocent and you can either live there by the skin of your teeth or try to escape.</p><p>Oh, and there’s a monster in the basement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grand Highblood/Reader, MSPA Reader/Original Troll Character(s) (Homestuck)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>352</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meeting the Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It has been a year or so since I read a good prison fic and I decided to take up the job and write one myself. I wanted to put in some of my favorite concepts like limited perspective or failing miserably. Cause as much as I do love the omnipotent or OP reader, I just want to read about a regular reader. Someone's who's just trying to make it day by day that doesn't know the thoughts or motives of the people around them. They're mortal and fallible and real and there's something lovely about that.</p><p>But! Some notes about the story: trolls and humans have been living together for a few decades but still experience some hate. There’s a brief mention of menstruation if only to show what you have to deal with as a prisoner and some sad biz considering how everything works when earning pay for the jobs (Purposes) you’re assigned. You've been in jail for a little while and luckily your poker face is on point. Trolls are nocturnal so the facility is on a nighttime schedule also.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your Purpose for today was delivery. You were taking an alarmingly large meal deeper underground, two levels deeper to be exact, and delivering it to a High Alert Inmate. Honestly, the fact that you finally had some time to yourself wasn’t horrible. The quiet creaking of the elevator and the rusted snarl of the metal sliding apart was a soothing lullaby compared to the howls and gruff voices of the trolls above. The cart you pushed jostled on the uneven tiles and you followed the dim hallway past cold and empty cells until you made it to the correct number. Forty-two. You eyed the heavy-duty number pad on the side and pulled out the little card the officers had given you, swiping it instead. With a hearty beep you heard no less than four locks unlock and the door hissed. </p><p>It was fairly easy to open. You left the cart in the hallway in case the door swung back around and how humiliating would it be to have all the food dumped right in front of the doorway before you even handed it over. You held it open with your foot just in case and dragged the cart inside behind you, proud of the quiet clatter. </p><p>The lights were dim in the room, more so than in the hallway and you craned your neck up to see how many of the lights had gone out. There were four in all, heavily clouded, flickering a sickly yellow and blotted by the corpses of dead insects huddled on the bottom of the shallow dome. The room was fairly large, about fifteen or so feet high and almost three times as long. The walls were scratched and stains marked the stone and flaked at the corners of the floor. It smelled like sweat and blood, some other harsh chemicals and something rotten. You squinted toward the back of the cell and cleared your throat, spotting something huddled in the corner. </p><p>Before you could even speak it was as if the entire back end of the room moved. The screaming clatter of chains deafened you, the noise echoing back tenfold you slapped your hands over your ears and turned to run. Impossibly louder, a roar unlike any beast you ever heard exploded and brought you to your knees. You clawed at the sides of your head, stumbling over your own legs on your way to the door to escape the horrible sounds. To your misfortune the door shut and no amount of tugging opened it. </p><p>The cacophony brought tears to your eyes and in what might have been pure desperation you screamed too, agony and fear adding to the audial destruction.</p><p>It stopped suddenly and you were left against the door, body shaking violently with your breath catching in your throat, your wet hiccups now the only sound. You sobbed and curled your legs toward you, mouth moving in words you didn’t even think were real. You just babbled, mindlessly terrified of whatever else lurked in the room. Your desire for survival surpassing any logical thought.</p><p>When it was clear you weren’t maimed or dead you dared to unfurl yourself to see what had happened. There, now about halfway across the room, the massive form waited. Blazing red eyes shone in the darkness and you stared back, unable to think of anything else. After a few moments of gazing into the endless crimson circles they turned away and onto the cart of food. Your hand reached out to try the door latch again and found it locked still. Someone would have to come and get you out if it was truly only locked on the other side. This had to be yet another hazing event.</p><p>You shimmied along the wall toward the cart and gave it a careful push toward the HIA. You had delivered the food. You had done your job. All you had to do now was wait this out. Against your hopes, the red eyes blazing with hatred swivelled to you and then to the cart. The troll snarled in a way that felt like your bones were vibrating with how low it was and you stood to gain some leverage. You didn’t know what it wanted you to do. Getting closer to the monster kept you on your toes, you’d be ready to hurl yourself back to the door if it tried lunging for you - again. </p><p>Your eyes had adjusted a fraction in the room and you could see a bit more of him now. He was nearly curled in two, chains upon chains and cuffs kept him bolted to the floor and against the back wall. An inhumane helmet was wrapped around his head, leaving only his eyes and a small section of his mouth open. It was clear there had been a mess around his mouth and no one had ever bothered to clean the metal, its coloration rusty and lumpy from old foods.</p><p>You scowled. “They haven’t been treating anyone right.” Approaching those threatening eyes took every ounce of courage and you made sure to take a long look at the chains keeping him in place. He couldn’t grab you, or bite you, or kick you. Examining his whole frame told you he couldn’t really do much of anything actually. What had this troll done to earn such horrible treatment? Not even you had been thrown down here in extended isolation.</p><p>His eyes were feral and flecks of spittle dripped from the mouth slot. He was...deranged. Mind empty and the only presence was of a cobra ready to strike. You felt pity. Taking a hold of the cart you pushed it as close as you dared and stood before him. He was insanely large, staggeringly so you couldn’t even get an approximate height from how he was forced low from his bindings. He might have been two or three times your height and built like a brick house, muscles clearly visible from his thick arms and broad shoulders. His black hair was a barber's nightmare, all wild curls and waves, unbelievably tangled, built up and down and swamped around his neck like a lions mane. You reached for one of the towels on the side of the cart and held it out, “You can either clean yourself off or I can help.”</p><p>The foam around his mouth increased. You dipped the corner in a large bottle of water and lingered a few feet away, stepping forward cautiously. “I’m going to help clean you up a bit, is that all right?” Behind the mask his lips peeled back and you were sure you almost saw every fang in his mouth, sickly sticky and discolored. You frowned, “You know, I’ve never heard of you before. I...haven’t exactly been up to date on troll crimes but I’m sure I would have heard if someone like you got imprisoned.” You peered beneath his helmet to the rest of his body at his tattered clothes. This had to be illegal. Constant isolation and the inability to clean himself? When was the last time this stinky troll had a shower? You held your hands up to show you were no threat - not that you could be with your physical differences - and reached out to touch the helmet.</p><p>His mask came fast but you were ready and skipped backwards as his teeth snapped shut on open air. Your heart thumped in your throat at almost losing your fingers and you held your own hand, rubbing your palm to tell yourself you were fine. It took a few seconds to gain the courage to speak. “Do you understand me?” His voice came out in a gutteral snarl and several intermittent pauses as if there were syllables in his alien words. You shook your head, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”</p><p>Seeing as he was unappreciative of your offer and you weren’t about to test your luck again. You set the towel on the cart and pushed it underneath one of his balled up fists, quickly relocating yourself toward the door when his massive hands unfurled.</p><p>He watched you sit in front of the door for what felt like longer than necessary and dropped your head back against the wall. You might be able to sleep easily here - true it would be with what was probably the most dangerous creature in this entire prison - but if the chains held this long they would continue long after. Your eyes drooped and you shut them, arms around your shoulders to stay warm in the cold, stagnant air of the room.</p><p>You could hear him eating voraciously, soft patters of food falling against the ground and the hard creak and clang of the cart jostling your background noise. It was so much nicer than the snoring and endless chattering threats of the inmates above.</p><p>You shut your eyes and opened them when the heavy lock on the doors vibrated the wall at your back. You felt somewhat refreshed, sleep luckily having time fly by, and stretched when you got to your feet. A troll peered inside and searched for you, light yellow eyes widening. “So you’re still alive?” He pointed across the room, “Get the fuckin’ cart.”</p><p>You groaned and did as ordered, tiredly shambling toward the cart now void of food and covered in crumbs and grime. You grimaced and took hold of the edge, realizing you’d wandered deeper into the room. In the danger zone like this the sleep was quickly sapped and you searched for the other occupant, glad he was back in the darkness. Not wanting to get scared again if he decided to go for you, you quickly dragged the cart to the guard and out into the hallway. </p><p>You made it all the way to the elevator in silence for the guard to speak. “You’ll be addressed to this Purpose four times a week.” You whipped around and gawked at him. Four days of getting your hearing ruined? He grinned nastily, “You’re the first one we put on this Purpose that hasn’t gotten gutted. Must be a sign that this is what you’re good for.”</p><p>You were Purposed to clean in the kitchen along with several others, all equally giving you the silent treatment. So you’d be heading down there every other day during the week, and then back to back on weekends. Maybe you could find a happy medium with the troll and catch some shut eye while he ate. An extra half hour of sleep wasn’t so bad. Any bit helped. You were sure the others were starting to see how weak you were getting and it wouldn’t be long before your notoriety wore off and they tried to test your abilities. </p><p>You’d done your best to be obedient and out of the way as possible. Even if they did think it was a ruse and put them on edge perhaps even more, as long as you didn’t cause any problems hopefully you’d win some brownie points. Drying and putting away the dishes you brushed shoulders with a troll wearing yellow and orange, a quiet hiss coming from her mouth. You ignored her and stepped out into the mess hall to look at the clock. One forty-five. Still time for recess.</p><p>You heard the whispers behind your back and although it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end you knew if you continued to act meek their aggression would come sooner. <em> Better to ignore them </em> , your neighbor’s voice echoed, <em> cause the moment you start anything they won’t just take it sitting down. </em></p><p> </p><p>/*/</p><p> </p><p>You woke up to a stomach ache and brought your hand to your belly, grimacing at the tender sensation. Great. You picked through the supplies under your bed and found nothing of use, hoisting yourself up from the mattress carefully. Your panties would be ruined. Shuffling outside you pulled the door to your cell shut and dipped your head in greeting to the guard on duty, passing by and sticking close to the railing to avoid the groups talking outside of their friends cells. You knocked on the glass of the observation room. “I need pads...or tampons. I don’t know what I’m allowed.”</p><p>The man blinked slowly and turned to his computer, glancing at the numbers on your collar once. “It’ll be ten dollars.” He plucked out a few files from a drawer and filled out the lined spaces, signing his name at the bottom. “Sign here.”</p><p>You hesitated. “Ten dollars? I...I don’t have any money?”</p><p>He shot you a flat look and pointed his pen at the screen. “You do have enough money to cover the costs.”</p><p>“How did I get money?” You scribbled your name down on the electronic screen and watched him get up and dig around through a crate at the back of the room. He dumped a package of pads down into the slot and locked it, twisting a bar to the side to allow it to swing open on your side. You picked up the package and gave it a once over. </p><p>“Whenever you perform work duties you are given compensation.” He sat down heavily and turned back to the screen. </p><p>“Oh.” You cleared your throat to get his attention again, “Is there anything else I can get with the money?”</p><p>“Books. Paper.” So that’s how the others got their things! “Magazines.” He shoved another sheet of paper into the slot and sent it over. “Here.”</p><p>You had so many choices! On the sheet labeled Commissary List you saw tons of snacks and bathroom supplies. You could buy more toilet paper instead of struggling to make your single roll last. This was wonderful. “Thank you! I’ll look over this.” You smiled, glad the start of your horrible day was taking a turn for the better. “Can you tell me how much money I have left?”</p><p>“Two dollars fifty cents.”</p><p>Oh. <em> Oh wow </em>. You grimaced and forced on a smile. “Thank you. I’ll have to pick wisely.” You settled down into a spot nearby and read over the list. Everything was so out of your price range. Extra clothing cost as much as your hygiene products. Cookies were three dollars. Shampoo was two. Hm, you could use more but if you saved you might be able to buy shampoo and conditioner eventually. You tried doing the mental math. How long had you been here? Twenty-eight days or so. If you had twelve dollars and fifty cents up until now if you divided...you used your finger to scribble down the imaginary numbers and clicked your tongue. You were basically earning forty-five cents a day. No, that didn’t seem right. That sounded wrong. Forty-five cents for working in the craft shop? In laundry? The kitchen over a hot stove?</p><p>You held onto the piece of paper and checked the time, knowing it would be all right to head outside for a bit after your trip to the bathroom. It would take months to earn enough money to buy an extra piece of clothing if you had to pay ten dollars every month for your supplies. You hurried downstairs at the thought of keeping your soiled panties for month. You only got two pairs and you’d need to make sure you kept them for all they were worth.</p><p>After the horrible realization that these panties would be stained and you simply had no choice but to keep them until you earned...<em> seven dollars </em> to buy a replacement, your good mood had diminished. You wouldn’t be able to buy much of anything after all. Outside you were glad to find your favorite spot was still vacant and settled down to look up at the stars. </p><p>You’d be here forever. You’d be spending the rest of your life here for years until you grew old and died. Charged for crimes you never committed - unless one of the inmates had mercy you would be surrounded by people and have not a friend among them. Like a man on a deserted island dying of dehydration. Water everywhere but not a drop to drink. </p><p>You couldn’t let your guard down, even if you knew you already had. Across the yard was workout equipment, an overly sized jungle gym of hanging metal and monkey bars. Pretty nice from what you’d seen in the movies. You wanted to work out but if they saw how much less you could lift compared to them it would be admitting weakness. You needed every bit of intimidation you didn’t have to survive until you figured out a better way of staying safe.</p><p>As usual, the group of yellow and teal trolls made sure to keep you in their line of sight as they spoke. You met their eyes occasionally and did your best to keep from staring, ready to run back inside if they came for you.</p><p>To your right the grass crunched as someone approached and you bristled, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. A troll with a broken horn stopped a few feet away and his eyes were tinted a slightly darker orange. “So you’re the Trollhunter.”</p><p>Allegedly. You didn’t know how to react. It was obvious you were some apparent serial killer - especially being the only human inmate here. “Who are you?” It wasn’t hard to keep the venom out of your voice. It was, however, difficult to say without your worry seeping through.</p><p>He stepped closer and a few trolls in the group farther ahead of you started to go quiet. “Marklo.” You eyed him from head to toe and turned your attention back to the sky. “You haven’t started any fights since you showed up.”</p><p>“Why would I?” You made sure to keep him in your peripheral as you made out the shape of the big dipper. </p><p>He made a low hum. “Thought you hated trolls.”</p><p>How to answer. You rolled your head toward him and although his body was relaxed his eyes weren’t quite as yellow as the others. You knew it meant something. You flicked a hand out beside you in an offer for him to take a seat. You could calm down if he wasn’t looming so close. He made the noise again and plopped himself against the wall about four feet away. “You’re the first person to speak to me.” A change in topic. If you said you didn’t hate trolls they would think you were lying even if it was the truth.</p><p>“I have questions. Everyone else is too much of a cluckbeast to ask.”</p><p>Cluckbeast? You drew your legs toward your chest and thumped your head against the building. “What kind of questions?”</p><p>“How many have you killed?”</p><p>You internally grimaced. Honesty would be the best policy. “I don’t know. The judge appointed me with 87 life sentences so I assume it’s at least that many.” You didn’t know how this worked! You couldn’t imagine killing that many people. It was impossible that it even happened without your knowledge!</p><p>His eyes grew darker. “How’d you do it? You don’t look that strong. Beside the guns and club a few of the reports said you tore them apart with your bare hands.” Marklo’s eyes drifted down to your hands and you flexed them unconsciously. “You don’t even have claws.”</p><p>You couldn’t think of an answer that wouldn’t set him off and kept your mouth shut. This felt like a horrid video game where your answers would either make things the same or send them spiralling into disaster. At your silence his upper lip curled and you tensed, frowning. </p><p>“Fine, then why the fuck are you even acting like you did nothing wrong? We saw what happened when you were sentenced. You were confused. Why play dumb after everything happened? Why play so innocent now?”</p><p><em> Because I am innocent. </em> You drew in a deep breath. So far your attempt to placate him and keep him from getting angrier wasn’t working. Maybe you should dig at him a little with some fabricated lies. “Usually, good behavior grants mercy. You’re able to go outside for volunteer work. Sometimes they knock a few months from your length here.” You shot him a smile you hoped was sinister. “Maybe I just want to shave off a few of those eight-seven years. You know, get out of here before I’m geriatric.”</p><p>That spiel had his eyes blazing red and he snarled. You were going to die right out here in the courtyard and no one would bat an eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and when they popped open they were still a little darker than the pastel yellow but more or less regular. He laughed. Rough and gravelly he planted his hands on the grass and nodded. “Nice to know all this playing nice is actually a game. You’re a grade-A psychopath you know that?” His hand stretched out, black claws shaved to dangerous points. “I appreciate the honesty, Trollhunter.”</p><p>What kind of a chance would it be to shake his hand? What if he snatched you and started beating you into a pulp? What if this was all some stupid game to gain the upper hand? Not wanting to seem cowardly you screamed in panic in the busy mess of your mind and took his hand in your own, giving it a shake. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Marklo.” His grip was firm and even when he squeezed a bit to test your patience you kept your face blank and smiled softly. His hand was rough. Calloused and a bit cooler than your own it was larger than your own as well. A very small part of you welcomed the physical contact.</p><p>He released you with a huff and got to his feet, dusting his backside off. “You’re in Block C, right?” You nodded, dread pooling in your belly alongside the occasional dull cramp. “I’m Block B.”</p><p>You weren’t sure what he wanted you to do with that information and he left to head back to his little group of three, the others eyes wide and curious at what their friend had to report. Why was he in here? Surely something terrible if you both were placed in the same prison. If he granted you the grace of talking with you again you’d try and ask. You spent hours relaxing outside, staring up at the sky and the stars, lost in your own thoughts and plans for the future. Eventually the clock signalled it was nearing time for the Count and you headed inside to get back to your cell.</p><p>Others strolled by, grumbling and hissing in their own language bitterly, shooting glares in your direction that had lessened since you came here. One attempted to shoulder check you and you easily dipped out of the way, eyes boring into the back of her shaved head. She spun around and snarled, the jagged scar along the lower half of her mouth tinted a lighter gray and ugly. You stood your ground and despite being smaller she didn’t take a step closer. One of her friends nudged her along with a hand on her shoulder and you stared them down until they left into the next Block.</p><p>Your hands were shaking. It wouldn’t be long now. They were both starting to get bored of your presence and ballsy, wondering how much they could test you before they or you would snap and attack. You don’t think you could handle a single fight with any of them no matter what the scars on your body proved. You waited just near the door for one of the guards to come by, mouth moving as he quietly counted to himself. The minute he left you turned and dropped down on the mattress, burying your head into your hands to rub at your cheeks and push your hair out of your face. After Counts were made you were free to go once more and you headed to the mess hall, waiting in the endless line for food so you could get this day over with. You ate at a vacant side of a long table and pushed past the crunchy slop as you always had, downing it with water from the bottle and depositing it in the right container. </p><p>Today your Purpose was laundry day and you were glad for the opportunity to mindlessly focus on cleaning and folding. The thought of earning the forty-five cents was demeaning and part of you wished you hadn’t been aware of it. It brought yet another problem in your life now that the door for Better Things had opened.</p><p>You worked until your shift was over and headed back to your cell to turn in early, glad for the heavy lock of the cell door to keep you from everyone else. </p><p>The next day you cleaned yourself up to the best of your abilities and sure enough, a cart of food was prepared in the guards office and he handed off the card to the HIA’s cell. You were led to the elevators again but ventured on alone, back into the belly of the complex and down the hall toward the snarling monster. Already he was roaring, the bellow muffled by the thick concrete but not enough to keep the fear you felt from flooding your system. You swiped the card and entered, letting the last of the noise drown out into heavy breathing.</p><p>“Hello.” You pushed the cart toward him and saw his eyes were still the same raging red coloring as they were the last time. He was still filthy, the smell was still awful, the room was still dim. If he remembered you he gave no sign of it and flexed in his chains. You glanced at the plates of food and mush, noticing they still had yet to give him any utensils. “Can I bring this over to you?” He lowered his head and snarled, thick saliva dropping from the metal slot. </p><p>You were still terrified of this monstrous troll but you knew the chains would protect you. The guard said you were the first to not ‘get gutted’ so if you kept out of his range he couldn’t touch you. He took a step back and you felt your bravery falter. He hadn’t done that last time. You weren’t sure if he was at the end of his chains when you first stepped in and turned to check the ground for any markings of where he could reach. Blood of all colors except for red stained the ground. Greens like mold, yellows like urine, a blue that seemed to drag itself back into the darkness where he stood stretched like a carpet beneath him. Amber speckled the walls and every shade in between could be seen here and there. </p><p>You checked your distance from the door and wondered if this was too far back from last time. His head rose and you heard a rough scraping sound echo from the top of the room where the outline of swirling horns stabbed at the covering over the lights. You didn’t know what to do. If this was too far for him to reach you’d be starving him. If you got too close you would be another stain in the deadly room. You dared to push the cart closer until you felt fear take hold and quickly ran back to the end of the room. The troll made a garbled sound and you saw the tips of his claws nick the edge of the cart and drag it closer. Oh, just barely made it then. You curled up in the corner of the room and shut your eyes, wishing you had brought a blanket but knew it wasn’t allowed outside of your cell. </p><p>Maybe if you made enough money you could buy a second and see what the restrictions were? His heavy breathing was cut off by his erratic eating, the wet slap of his lips and uncomfortable crunch of something you didn’t know was sliced through easily. He was finished in no time at all and the gooey sound of his tongue moving around his mouth made you shiver. A few minutes after he finished he dragged himself to the back of the room and his body thumped against the ground when he laid down, the crackles of the chains going silent soon after. </p><p>You managed to sleep again until the door opened. You quickly took the cart back outside and the guard made the unnecessary comment about how she couldn’t believe you weren’t maimed. </p><p>Life was tedious. Back to cleaning the dishes upstairs, a quick trip to the bathroom and to the showers minutes before Counts gave you a time to be vulnerable but still protected. They couldn’t attack you without the threat of missing Counts. You stayed awake until morning and peered out through the bars across the large space at the sleeping trolls, snoring and snarling, hitting things in their sleep. Your eyes burned but you sat up and looked at yourself in the light streaming in from the window to check out the foreign body you were gifted when you came back from your “blackout” during the murder spree.</p><p>Hours passed with your attention on your arms, tracing the scars and markings, remembering a time they were smooth and almost featureless before this whole ordeal. A guard stopped by and you kept your head down. “You got a problem, Trollhunter?”</p><p>“No, sir.” You whispered just loud enough to be heard. “Just hard to sleep with all the noise.”</p><p>He harrumphed and continued on his round without another word. </p><p>Tomorrow was much of the same except you were Purposed to a new position: Commisinary Stock Counting. You followed the guards to another section of the complex along with four others into a warehouse. You barely refrained from whistling. Everything was stacked into pallets and shelves, cans of food were neatly organized with barcodes on every section and instructions taped to the support columns. You were ordered to count and shift all of the goods to the left side of the shelves so the later items would get used first before they expired. Much of the items were foreign and had alien writing on the packages, english and spanish translations in laminated sheets on the top explaining what the cans were. </p><p>It took nearly the full day and you knew at least one guard was watching you like a hawk, ready to berate you for screwing up or stealing but you stuck to the orders and worked as quickly as possible. By the end you were glad for the change and a chance to use your brain for something other than wondering what you could have done to deserve this. </p><p>Your pockets were patted down and the guards hands frisked you for anything stolen and you smiled proudly when they found nothing. After all, you were innocent. To this very moment you had done nothing wrong and their skeptical frowns told you they didn’t appreciate your good behavior.</p><p>Upstairs and another trip to the mess hall, you retreated to the outside world for the last hour allowed to stargaze. “Trollhunter.” You jumped at the voice and the troll seemed surprised you even moved. Marklo narrowed his eyes and approached slightly closer than he had before but kept a safe distance. “Didn’t see you out here yesterday.”</p><p>“I turned in early.” You didn’t want to tell him the real reason so you kept it at that. His head cocked to the size while he thought. You put on a small smile, “Did you miss me?”</p><p>His expression hardened and you wondered if you pressed your luck. You deflated a fraction and gestured beside you to try and clear the air. Luckily, he took a seat even after a moment of thought. “What was your Purpose today?”</p><p>Was he seriously making small talk? You stretched one leg out but kept the other close, ready to get to your feet if need be. Hopefully your casual seating was noticed. You didn’t want to seem like a threat to him if he was willing to come back to you a second time. “Inventory. I had never been put on it before. It was a nice change.”</p><p>He made a noise that sounded like a snarl. “Already?” You turned to him and drew your brows together curiously. He scowled and his tone dropped cruelly, “Seems like your ‘good behavior’ is already working in your favor.”</p><p>His bad mood didn’t stop the flutter in your chest at hearing you were being acknowledged. “How so?”</p><p>“Only after you earned their favor do you get to get out of the Three Circle.” You didn’t know what that meant. He sighed, “The Three Circle? Washing the clothes, Cooking the food, and Feeding the highblood.”</p><p>You perked up at that last one. “Is that who’s down there? A highblood?” You knew their world revolved around the colors of their blood but most of them didn’t like to talk about it. You vaguely remember seeing a blueblood before - one that wasn’t in here - but you couldn’t place where. “What did he do?”</p><p>His eyes went wide. “He crossed through the portal through sheer force. He came here to slaughter the trolls that managed to make it here as punishment for leaving.” He drew himself up and got to his feet. His entire demeanor changed at this and you wanted to know why. You stood and noticed he took a step back, even after you made sure to keep your expression simple and body language small. “A lot like what you did. He did it because he wanted to keep the old ways. Why <em> you </em>did it…” he stalked back to his friends as they started heading inside and you thinned your lips and followed along.</p><p>Sleep didn’t come easily that night either and it felt far too soon before night came again and the guards were calling for everyone to rise. You groggily followed orders and took the cart back downstairs, almost knocking the cart over when you tried to push the door open with it instead of dragging it in inside after. The beast - the murdering highblood - was awake as it always was and you put on a shaky smile. “Hello.” You wheeled the cart over, slowing down to inch by inch until you deemed it close enough. The troll used a claw to scoot the cart closer, the chains rattling as it struggled to reach his food. You felt ashamed that you made him work for it and waited until he withdrew his hand to dart forward and nudge it closer. This time he could scoop around the handle and pull it closer instead. “There.”</p><p>You went back to your corner and followed the same procedure, listening to him messily eat and falling asleep when he was finished. Take the cart. Go back upstairs and help clean up. Go outside and stargaze and lose yourself to your thoughts until Marklo came over to say a few words before he went back to his group. Sleep before morning came up.</p><p>Rinse and repeat.</p><p>You were glad you were Purposed for cooking that morning. It wasn’t a surprise you weren’t trusted with any of the knives and were ordered to stick with bread making and watching the food, swapping out whatever they had cooking in the oven and transferring it onto plates. Occasionally some of the cooks would sneak little bites of the food or crumbs they hadn’t managed to make onto the plates, rumbling to one another at their mischievous actions. You wanted to join them in their sneakiness. How easy would it be to rip a piece of break apart and stuff it in your mouth. You weren’t hurting for food but to join in felt like the camaraderie you desperately missed. </p><p>You kept your idle hands working and rolling out dough, taking out the trash to the dumpster when needed and avoided any other thoughts. It would be for the best. Marklo already said your good behavior was kicking in on your first month here. You didn’t know what other jobs were or where you could go - but you could only go up from here. Job wise - not popularity wise. No, you expected to be alone forever other than Marklo and even then he only approached to question your actions. </p><p>It had taken twenty-eight days for one person to work up the courage to talk to you. How much longer would it be before you got to acquaintance number two?</p><p>Outside, it took longer than usual for Marklo to approach but you were glad for the company. You smiled and gestured beside you while he came closer and he smoothly plopped himself down a few feet away. “Your good mood is pissing off everyone.”</p><p>You hesitated. That wasn’t what you expected. “What are they saying?”</p><p>“How can you be so happy here after what you did?” He picked at the bottom of his slip-on shoes with a claw. “With the guards favor and your happy attitude some of the others are thinking of trying to take you down a few notches.”</p><p>That was one the worst possible things he could have told you. The absolute worst would be if he gave you an exact time you were going to be jumped and said they already had shanks and a grave pre-dug. You kept silent and scanned the faces of the trolls in the courtyard. It could be any of them. It could be all of them. You didn’t know if the guards would care for your safety when they didn’t seem to care for you even being here. You’d have to think of something quickly to make sure no one came for you. One fight and when they realized how weak you were the harassment would be never ending. “Thank you for warning me.” He could have kept quiet about this and let it be a surprise. Marklo didn’t have any reason to help you but you weren’t about to be rude and get on his bad side. Any information would help.</p><p>“Will you kill them?”</p><p>You couldn’t. You scrambled for a response that wouldn’t enrage him or make yourself seem pathetic and realized it was obvious. “If I did it wouldn’t be good behavior, would it?” You smiled and stretched your arms high above your head, listening to the popping of the bones in your shoulders and back. You let them drop unceremoniously and turned to Marklo. He was alert, keyed in on your every movement. “I would prefer to avoid fighting, if able.” You lowered your voice even if no one was around you. “If you have any ideas as to how keep everyone from getting in trouble I would appreciate your aid. You’ve done more than you realize by even warning me.”</p><p>He mulled over your words in silence for a brief time. You tried to tell yourself he was trying to help and curled your hands in your lap to hide the way you dug your nails into your palm. You were sad to notice that dark clouds were coming in and masked part of the stars. “If I think of anything I’ll let you know.”</p><p>It was more than you were expecting. You took in a breath and smiled, “Thank you.”</p><p>He appeared to be a little distressed by your words - or by your actions and grumbled when he left. You decided not to spend the time watching the clouds obscure one of the few good things in your new life and headed inside, forcing yourself to take your time and not appear as hysterical as you felt. What you feared was happening. Even if you knew it would, the fact that it was in motion was an absolute nightmare. Your attention forward and your only goal your cell, you swiftly dipped past other trolls and noticed three unfamiliar inmates loitering against the railing of your finish line. You slowed down but kept walking, knowing if you stopped then it was like admitting you were terrified.</p><p>“Trollhunter.” One purred in a surprisingly gentle voice. It was said as a greeting but their smile was deadly, their fangs so long they curled over their lower lip. Another with half-lidded eyes locked onto your own and you did little more than nod in greeting, your heart beating quicker. You could feel your palms get sweaty and stepped inside of your cell, hurriedly trying to spot anything you could use for self defense. How long would you have to keep up this charade of being a murderer? You bit your quivering lower lip and steeled yourself, wiping your facial expressions clear when you turned around to slide your cell door shut.</p><p>They straightened but hadn’t come any closer. Only when the lock clicked into place the one that called your name wearing orange and brown stepped to the bars and slung his hands over the horizontal grates. “You don’t come here often, yeah? Why is that? Don’t want to mingle with the rest of us?”</p><p>You took your time taking a seat. The bars between you and them doing wonders for your nerves already. “I don’t believe any of you would like spending time with me.” You had an idea and shot it down, then decided to go for it anyway. “Especially since everyone knows what I did.”</p><p>The two in the back glanced at each other but the brown troll scratched lines against the metal bars lazily. He cracked his gnarled horns against the cell door and you barely refrained from flinching at the sound. You considered it a blessing for your poker face. He wiggled his fingers and left, the other two following after without a glance back in your direction. You didn’t leave again after Counts, and even if it did feel like hiding, it was the only thing you wanted to do. You bundled yourself in the blankets and held your bladder until morning, slightly regretting your decision to cower.</p><p>Night came and once again you were scheduled for Feeding the HAI. Travelling downstairs was a relief, you wouldn’t have to worry about being jumped down here, just eaten or swiped at by the goliath. Shouldering open the door you heaved out a sigh, “Hello.” </p><p>The highblood was to the back of the room and two red dots swivelled over. You wheeled the cart across the room and the troll rose from its spot to get his food. You were back at the door by the time he made his way over and hooked a finger around the edge to drag it closer. Instead of curling up while he ate you stood and stretched. Maybe you could start working out while you came down here to build up some muscle mass. Your body was already stronger than before but nowhere near troll levels. You balled your hands into fists and checked your footing. Shoulder width apart, hands raised and tucked close.</p><p>The chewing stopped and those hateful reds froze you to the spot. You blinked and quickly dropped the stance, “N-no. See, I’m not trying to fight you, I'm just practicing fighting. Not with you of course but...in general.” You turned away from him and put him out of your mind, aiming your stance toward the wall. You threw out a jab and felt power behind the punch you didn’t remember but you’d need to be quicker and harder. Yeah. You could practice down here. Half an hour every other day wouldn’t be so bad. It would be more exercise than you’d had in a long time anyway.</p><p>The eating resume but at a slower pace. You knew the highblood was watching but it didn’t matter. You felt fairly confident in your throws and practiced kicking and hopping away from your imaginary foe. You assumed you looked a bit silly but you had to do what you needed to.</p><p>Half an hour later the door opened and you grabbed the cart, rose the elevator and went to work. </p><p>Time went by as normal but your paranoia kept you from relaxing. After eating, going outside felt like asking to get jumped. You couldn’t show fear. You <em> couldn’t </em>. Out into the cool air the stars were completely obscured and you searched for the glow of the moon. Nope, not a single thing among the soft gray. It was so dark most of the lights had come from the high hanging light poles and spotlights roaming over the grounds beyond the courtyard. </p><p>You clenched your teeth at footsteps and spun around to address whoever approached, hoping desperately it was Marklo. Luckily, it was and like always he paused a few feet away. “Are you planning on going back inside?”</p><p>You glanced at the sky and nodded. “Nothing for me out here.”</p><p>“It’s all you ever do.” He went to the wall and took a seat. “Stargaze.” He craned his neck skyward. “Your stars look different than ours.”</p><p>The dangling bit of fresh information made you reconsider. You gave in and took a seat, “Tell me about your homeworld.” His face scrunched up and you were quick to add on a ‘please’ to persuade him.</p><p>Alteria was wholly alien. Earth's days were so much shorter than theirs. The nights cooler but significantly more safe than anywhere in his world. Earth had its dangers but to a troll the only thing they had to worry about were humans. They could easily take on any wild animal or weather extremes with a bit of supplies. They were the apex predators here and the freedom of being able to do whatever they wanted here, to be judged by their appearance and actions instead of blood color (hemospectrum?) was a chance so many were more than happy to take. Marklo used to work in a factory back home and came here to explore Earth. You wanted to ask him what he had done to get put in here but couldn’t bring yourself to ruin the moment.</p><p>He went on about how it was strange you had families that kept in touch and could have children whenever you pleased. If there were any problems there would always be some authority to listen - even if they didn’t do much the idea of having a voice at all was refreshing. A comfortable - to you at least - silence settled down and you plucked at a few blades of grass. “Have you thought of any ways to avoid fighting?”</p><p>He cocked his head to the side and brought his legs up, arms sliding off of his knees against his stomach. He didn’t seem to think of you much of a threat anymore but still kept a distance. With more time he might be willing to sit a little closer. You hadn’t had decent human contact in so long. It had always been brushes of the shoulder or shoves from the guards if you didn’t move fast enough and random pat downs. “I haven’t.”</p><p>You internally screamed and shut your eyes for several seconds. You turned toward the rest of the courtyard and nodded, cracking your eyes open and biting back tears. “Perhaps I will think of something.”</p><p>“Doesn’t the inactivity get to you?” He suddenly shot, his tone made you bring up a leg in preparation. “You haven’t done anything. You’re surrounded by the creatures you hate. You spent years-” Years? No. It couldn’t have been <em> years </em> . “Slaughtering trolls and the only thing holding you back is good behavior? You’re never getting out of here. You are <em> never </em>,” he stressed, “Getting out of here.” He slung an arm out toward the rest of the area and you saw not a few trolls were listening in. “Why not just keep going? Keep up the body counts?”</p><p>How repulsive. You dipped your head to your chest and hoisted yourself to your feet. “Because I don’t want to. Even if I’m not getting out of here I know some of you eventually will.” You brushed down your jumpsuit and wiped your hands of a little clump of mud that stuck. “I would rather not hurt anyone if I’m able. This is the end of the line. Why keep pushing?”</p><p>“Would you have kept killing if they hadn’t caught you?”</p><p>Considering you had been slaughtering innocent trolls for years apparently and the only thing that stopped you was waking up from your blackout? “I don’t know. I would like to say no but I...don’t know.” You left before he could get up and went back to your cell. The troll trio was there again and the same one greeted you like last time with a haughty purr of your nickname. You mumbled a hello and locked the cell behind you. The troll tapped his claws against the bars and drug them across each one while he left, the dull chimes like the ringing of an old clock tower. </p><p>You stayed in bed and luckily fell asleep after Counts. </p><p>You weren’t expecting to get woken up so early. “Trollhunter! You’re going to be late for your delivery!” You tiredly stumbled out and cringed at the hard clatter of the cell door opening. You didn’t even have time to go to the bathroom before you were led to the kitchen and pointed in the direction of the familiar food cart. “Well?”</p><p>You took it and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, feet heading in the direction of the elevator. “I thought I did this every other day?”</p><p>“It’s the start of a new week.” Oh yeah. “Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and it starts again.”</p><p>“Right, sorry.” You stepped inside and hit the button for the lower floor. “Got...confused.”</p><p>The guard shoved the card into your hand. “Don’t let it happen again.”</p><p>You yawned and stretched in the elevator and felt only marginally more awake when you made it to the bottom. The food smelled better than it had yesterday and you eyed the ham-like rolls and chowder slop. At least he didn’t have to eat the same thing every day. A tap of the card and you shouldered your way inside, already hearing the highblood snarl and hiss. “Hello.” The abrupt silence made your heart rate skyrocket. The troll was at the end of his chains but he hadn’t said a word. Why did he stop growling? “Uh...yeah, hi. Were you expecting someone else?” You wheeled the cart over and smiled when he took a step back to give you room. “Thanks.” His finger hooked over the handle and he sat down, pulling the cart between his legs to shovel more food into his mouth, smearing not a small portion of it against the bottom of the helmet.</p><p>You went back to practicing your punches and kicks but halfheartedly. It was too early for this much exercise. You sat down and yawned, “So can you talk and you just don’t want to or do you not know any english?”</p><p>He didn’t even slow down his eating. You knew he heard you but chose not to respond.</p><p>You only got a few minutes of sleep before the door opened again and you took the cart back upstairs to clean. Back into the laundry room for today you lost yourself in the work of warm clothes and clean linen, body sweatier than usual. You hit the showers before Counts and stayed under the cool water longer than usual, brushing the tangles out of your hair and wishing you had nicer quality soap and shampoo. You grabbed the towel you brought along and wiped yourself down, quickly changing into the only other set of clothes you had inside.</p><p>Outside you nearly ran into a nubby horned troll that you instantly recognized as one of the trio. You drew in a sharp breath and puffed yourself up, eyes staring at their chest instead of up toward their face. Maybe they couldn’t see how terrified you were like this. “Can I help you?”</p><p>“Just waiting to get into one of the stalls.”</p><p>Her voice was higher pitched and it would rise and dip in octaves every other syllable. You peered over your shoulder and realized no one was in the shower stalls, the only other two in the room were underneath the sprays at the back end where the water was warmer. She was definitely waiting for you. You smiled carefully and stepped out of the way, “It’s open now.”</p><p>She entered and the minute the stall door shut you double-timed it out of there and upstairs, slowing down when people were present. You hadn’t even heard her coming. The shower was too loud and you weren’t paying attention. They were testing you. Learning your routine. You’d have to change it up a bit now and pray nothing happened. You kept yourself out of everyone's way and avoided crowds but you might be able to find a new schedule to adhere to. You had even taken your shower earlier than usual and she showed up. Where were they watching? How many of them were there to make sure you weren’t out of their sight?</p><p>In the mess hall for food and back outside you found some comfort in seeing the stars. Marklo approached earlier than usual and it put you on edge. Everyone was changing how they did things. Something in the air was shifting. “Heard Ovrett cornered you in the showers.”</p><p>Word travelled fast. “She was waiting for my stall.” You shrugged and noticed how close he had gotten. It made your lip quirk, “Are you no longer afraid of me?”</p><p>“I was never afraid of you.” He spat, boldly coming closer. “I just didn’t know what you’d do.”</p><p>He was so close now. An arms length away if you wanted to touch him you could. “So you’ve decided I’m safe to be around, now?” His mouth opened in preparation of what was no doubt a hateful response but you continued. “I’m glad.”</p><p>His mouth snapped shut and he turned, heading back toward the wall to take a seat. You gladly followed and crossed your legs beneath you. He was about the same distance away as he was last night. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I trust you.”</p><p>“I understand if you don’t.” It was nice talking to him. “Do your friends pressure you into talking with me?” You could see him shuffle in your peripheral. “Is it for your own curiosity or theirs?”</p><p>“Both.” He quickly answered, settling back with his knees bent and his arms between his thighs and his stomach. “Everyone’s waiting for you to snap.”</p><p>You hung your head and played with the wrinkles in your pants. “I won’t. When I told you I don’t want to fight I meant it.” <em> Please believe me </em>, you wanted to beg, and you’d do it too if you knew he could help protect you. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”</p><p>“So why did you?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“You don’t know a lot of shit do you?”</p><p>You shrugged. There was no point in arguing. He was right. You didn’t know years had passed. You didn’t know what happened or how many people died. All you knew was that you didn’t do anything wrong. You’d never hurt anyone. You would certainly never kill anyone. </p><p>“The newbies get tasked with feeding the highblood downstairs.” You were shocked he still wanted to talk. Usually when he got mad he left. “Seems like you get stuck with it every night.”</p><p>“Guard said I was the first one that wasn’t attacked so they kept me in the position. There was...an awful lot of blood down there. They have him chained up in a little area and he’s...well, disgusting to be honest. It reeks and there’s hardly any light. How long has he been here?” That could have been you down there. If you both had the same intentions what separated you from him?</p><p>“<em> Years </em>. I don’t even know how long. He was here before I got here.” Marklo pulled up his sleeves to show off an alarmingly deep scar. “First time I went to feed him and he managed to do this before I could get out of the way. I ran out into the hallway and the guards had to threaten me with three days solitary confinement if I didn’t go back in to get the cart.” He flashed his teeth and laughed. “I took the three days and they sent someone else in there to grab the damn thing.”</p><p>You grinned. You’d never seen him smile before and as if he realized it he quickly shut himself down and got to his feet. “Even if you’re as strong as one of us if he gets his hands on you he’ll tear you apart.”</p><p>You stayed seated and let him have his height advantage. You missed his smile already. “I don’t plan on giving him the chance.”</p><p>Marklo left and you stayed outside a bit longer, eventually making your way inside. Another rough greeting of ‘Trollhunter’ and you chimed back with a goodnight, locking the cell door behind you. </p><p>Tomorrow was cooking. You were sure you had forearms that would make a baker proud as you rolled out the dough and sprinkled the ball with flour, running it through the spaghetti maker at a quick and efficient pace. You had a nice pile and went to work rolling out more when someone propped themselves against the counter next to yours. You saw the gleam of a knife and snatched the doughball, fingers sinking into the flour mixture you readied yourself for a stab.</p><p>Marklo arched a brow, “What are you gonna do with that? Smother me?”</p><p>You relaxed and nervously put back the dough on the counter, patting down the holes even though you knew you ruined it. “I don’t know. I would have thought of something.” You side-eyed the knife. “Why do you have that?”</p><p>“Oh.” He gave it a waggle and scoffed, “I’m in charge of cutting up the grubs.” His smile turned nasty and he spun it around in his grasp so he held it as a weapon, the blade pointed down, his calloused gray hands clutching the handle. “Did I scare you?”</p><p>You were fairly certain no one would be able to hear you over the sizzling of the stove and the boiling water and soup. You nodded, “You did.”</p><p>He thinned his lips and spun the knife back around. “Whatever.” He went back to cutting up what looked like oversized maggots and you held back a gag. No matter how many times you saw it it still made you sick.</p><p>You were glad for the chance to catch him off guard while drying the dishes. Usually there was one to wash, one to dry, and another to put back on the shelf. To be beside him while he washed made a surprised trill come from his mouth. You were kind enough not to point it out. “I didn’t think you’d come up to me outside of the courtyard.”</p><p>He aggressively shoved his hands into the sudsy water and worked out the grime at the bottom of a pan with a stained rag. “Why?”</p><p>You weren’t sure. “I thought you only spoke to me to show off to your friends.” You took another wet plate and set it beside the others. “No one else speaks to me.”</p><p>“That’s your own fault.” He argued, dipping the next plate in a bleach/water solution before handing off to you. “All you ever do is stay in your cell and sit outside in that little spot.”</p><p>“Do you think anyone would want to talk to me? It’s pretty clear they all hate me.” It’s so obvious they all hate you. You were literally getting stalked by three of them. You were sure if you really looked you’d find at least one somewhere in the mess hall waiting for you to leave.</p><p>He wiped off a gooey mess from the rag and snorted through his nose. Marklo didn’t say anything for a bit and you were just glad to be beside him. You’d finished nearly all of the plates and he slammed his fist down against the metal sink. “You’re a son of a bitch you know that?” You waited for an explanation because you hadn’t done anything except work in silence. “I know you’re just playing nice to trick me. I’m not stupid enough to fall for it. I want you to know I know exactly what you’re trying to do, Trollhunter.”</p><p>He thought this was some attempt at getting the upper hand. Perhaps no matter how much time passed he would always think you were doing something underhanded. “If I said I wasn’t you wouldn’t believe me.”</p><p>“Damn right I wouldn’t believe you.” He pulled the plug at the bottom of the sink and finished off the few remaining bowls. He splashed more water than necessary and you wondered if there was anything you could do to go back to the lighthearted, teasing mood. </p><p>You finished stacking the dishes and slid them into the cabinets. Gathering up the used rags and towels to dump in the washing receptacle. Marklo was gone by the time you came back and you grabbed a bite to eat of the remaining dishes before heading outside. He stayed away for the longest time this night, and you were certain you’d not speak to him at all again. You stargazed until your eyelids felt heavy and got to your feet. Marklo had his back turned toward the weight-lifting area and you felt bitter about losing him. Your almost-friend was lost to paranoia. Heading inside you mumbled a goodnight to the troll Ovrett and locked the door behind you. You didn’t bother watching them as they left and bundled up to sleep facing the wall, your eyes burning.</p><p>Curfew came and only then did you allow yourself to silently break down, biting your tongue to keep from whimpering you muffled yourself in your pillow and sobbed until exhaustion had you falling asleep.</p><p>You woke up early and were at the bars by the time the buzzer rang for everyone to rise. You went to the bathroom and washed your face off in the sink, knowing that the trolls around you were unsettled by your lingering presence. You never stuck around this long before. You hadn’t meant to. You wiped down your hair and stared at the woman in the reflection, her tired eyes and natural frown. She looked haggard. The lighter scars around her neck were pinched with signs of long-healed stitches. The curve of a black tattoo peeked out from your collar and even now the black band around your wrist felt like something you could wash off. The bone markings on your knuckles flexed when you curled it into a fist.</p><p>You glowered at your reflection. You could do this. Enough losing sleep. Enough looking over your shoulder. You either had to stop worrying about Ovrett and the rest of her group or you’d have to somehow intimidate them into leaving you alone. You gripped the edge of the sink and sneered. You wouldn’t be bullied your entire time here. Not by her or the one that would no doubt start this whole fight. You needed to learn her name and figure out what she wanted. You couldn’t keep waiting.</p><p>“That’s you...you realize it right?”</p><p>You still had an audience during your inner monologue. You whipped around and noticed a few of the trolls stepped back, the others hostile and ready to fight back, some waiting for something to happen. You tried picking out the one that tried the jab but no one fessed up. You straightened and plastered on a smile, leaving the bathroom to head toward the kitchen for the highbloods cart. You were certain someone whispered ‘she’ll snap’ on your way out but you could have misheard.</p><p>Downstairs you threw open the door roughly and wheeled the cart over, barely remembering to say hello to the monster. “Morning.” You caught yourself, “Night. Whatever.”</p><p>The troll made a curious sound and you threw your hands up. “You’re all on a different schedule than I’m used to.” You were in a bad mood. You rubbed your eyes and realized the troll was still a bit farther away to grab the car than he usually was. You pushed it closer and headed back toward the door. “I’m not a bad person, you know. I’m a good human. I haven’t done a bad thing in my entire life! I don’t deserve to be here!”</p><p>Already the highblood was eating.</p><p>“They charged me for so many murders I don’t even know the real number! I woke up as they dragged me out of the courtroom.” You slapped the flat of your hand against the door and snarled. “I can’t even make a friend because they all think I’m some criminal mastermind.” Now that you opened up these floodgates there was no way to stop them. You paced the length of the room as all of your anger and frustration poured out like a spillway. “They think I’m going to snap. Well they’re right, I am going to snap. It’s this! This is me snapping right now. Four hundred trolls up there and they think I can somehow take them all on.” You faced the highblood and smacked your hands against your chest. His eyes were watching in boredom. “They have a group after me. They stay outside my cell whenever I turn in for the night - morning <em> whatever </em>- and say hi. But it isn’t a nice hi. It’s a menacing hi. It’s the type of hi they say when they’re getting ready to shank me.”</p><p>The troll plucked a chunk of something that resembled a rubbery spinal cord of some massive animal from the tray and slid it into the slot. Despite its gelatin appearance it crunched several times.</p><p>“I won’t survive a shanking.” You held your arms out. “Look at this. This body is weak. They’ve got claws and teeth and strength - you know what I have?” You swung a punch and stretched your arms out. “It’s a trick question. I have nothing! They can do everything I can do and more!” You started pacing again. Spilling out the first things that came into your mind until you couldn’t think of anything else to say. You stood in the center of the room and shut your eyes, lungs heaving from how loud you were getting and how much you wanted to get off your chest. Ranting was tiring you out. “I don’t even have to worry about the life sentences. They’re going to kill me before the year’s up.”</p><p>The troll settled back down across the room and with one of his long legs, pushed the cart in your direction. The blatant disregard almost ignited another rant but you didn't have the energy. You walked over and pulled it back toward the door. “Sure. Thanks.”</p><p>You sat beside the door until it opened again and headed upstairs without another word. You grabbed lunch, went outside and noticed another cloudy night. You wanted to curl up and disappear. Escape from this life and the threat of danger. Marklo took a seat a bit away and made a low churring rumble. “Heard you almost started a fight in the bathrooms.”</p><p>You gawked, “I didn't start anything. I was washing my face off in the mirror and one of them made a jab at me.” You rolled your eyes. “<em> Started a fight. </em> I told you I didn’t want to fight anymore. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”</p><p>His low chuckling caught you off guard and you scowled at him. His orange eyes softened to a teasing squint, “Wasn’t expecting you to get testy.”</p><p>“Well I didn’t do anything and I shouldn't be accused of doing something<em> I didn’t do. </em>” You tucked one arm across your chest and rubbed your neck. “Have you thought of anything to avoid the troll gang wanting to kill me?”</p><p>“Is...that actually bothering you?”</p><p>Marklo’s eyes were wide and you threw your hands out. What a stupid thing to ask. “Of course it bothers me.” A few heads turned at your outburst and you quickly schooled your features and lowered your voice. “They wait outside of my cell before curfew and it’s only a matter of time before they try something. I don’t have anything in my room to defend myself so if they all try to gang up on me I’ll be helpless. I can’t make a shiv since there’s a chance I’ll get caught with it. Then what. All of my good behavior will have been for nothing.” You paused in case he had anything to say. He didn’t. “I haven’t thought of anything. Telling the guards probably won’t mean much. I think the fear everyone had of me is starting to fade since I’ve been here so long.”</p><p>His voice was quiet when he spoke. “They expect you to attack someone.”</p><p>“It’ll put the fear in them but I’m not going to.” Not like you would win if you did. You rubbed your neck again and dug at the hard muscles. “I can’t defend myself and the guards won’t protect me. I...I am at a stalemate.” There was nothing you could do but wait for the inevitable. Even if you finally decided on a solution it didn’t leave you any less annoyed. There was no comfort in knowing there was nothing you could do. </p><p>“So what’s your plan?”</p><p>You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, digging your fingers as hard as they could into your shoulders until your skin stung from the force. You let it drop in your lap and nodded. “I don’t have one. I...can only withstand their attacks until the guards are merciful or they kill me quickly.” You were going to die. There was nothing you could do about it. Getting beaten to death was a hell of a way to go. That is, if they didn’t have any weapons. They could choke you to death, stab you, bludgeon you with something they crafted. You didn’t know how but you knew it would be messy. You saw Marklo’s blank expression and felt yourself give up.</p><p>“I know you won’t believe me, since all evidence points to me, but I didn’t kill anyone. If I’m going to die I want someone to know the truth, even if they don’t believe me.” His lips pulled back in an ugly grimace of hate. “I know. You have no reason to but I know the truth. One of my last moments of clarity was driving somewhere. I blink and suddenly I’m in that hotel with all of those bodies.” Your stomach lurched at the memory. “Then I’m in the courtroom and finally I’m here.” Marklo was clearly disgusted and the way his hands clenched and unfurled told you he was getting restless. “I have no problem with trolls. When I worked at the gas station my coworker was a troll and we used to get into all sorts of trouble.” You wondered if that sounded racist and decided it probably was.</p><p>You stood and dipped your head to him, “I don’t know when they’ll come for me but I want you to know that our little talks have been the highlight of my time here. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me even if you didn’t want to.”</p><p>He shot upright and you prepared to get struck or screamed at. You had offended him by telling the truth and lost a friend in the process. You were likely to lose your life soon enough. He closed the distance and snatched your forearm, “I know this is just another one of your stupid thinkpan games.” His grip was tight and you managed to hold back any sign you were in pain through years of keeping a straight face. The poker face you crafted through all your experience from family card games was top tier. Blood slowly trickled down your wrist and dripped from your fingertips. “You think I don’t believe you won’t kill them when they attack you?”</p><p>You grasped his forearm and basked in the contact while you could. You gave a helpless little shrug, “I won’t kill them. I won’t get a single hit on them,” you barked out a bitter laugh, “I can guarantee you that.” You patted his arm and he let go of you as if you burned him. “Thanks for keeping me company on lonely nights, Marklo.”</p><p>You headed back to your cell and like every night they were waiting for you. You knew Marklo was the only one to hear your confession and fears and nothing prevented him from telling others your “false” innocence. You dipped your head to the first troll and Ovrett behind him. You paused inside of your cell and turned, “What are your names?”</p><p>The first troll smiled smoothly. “How nice of you to ask. I am called Maryon. You already know Ovrett and our tired friend here is Ermusa.”</p><p>“I would like to say thank you for making sure I make it to my cell safely every night, Maryon.” You told him smoothly, leaning against the bars. A flash of indignation crossed his face and you nodded to the others behind him. “You two as well. I know you’d rather be anywhere than here.” You shut the cell, taking your time doing so and waved at them. </p><p>Maryon’s orange shifted to a bronze and he clutched the bars of your cell, squeezing his face in between the small space. “As you humans say, Trollhunter, <em> you’re on thin fucking ice </em>.”</p><p>Feeling somewhat smug from the safety of your cell you took a seat on your bed and folded your hands in your lap. “It’s nice to know you’ve learned a few of our idioms.” You paused and rolled your wrist, drawing your brows together in pity. “Unfortunate that you can only use them in here instead of out in public.”</p><p>His mouth parted and you bit back a whine of fear at seeing two sets of teeth gnash down on the metal bars. He was wild, pushed past any limit he might have had he ground the hard steel between his teeth and let out a shrill giggle. “I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream, trollhunter.”</p><p>You couldn’t make a joke. You felt like you were going to puke watching this feral troll try to chew through the bars to tear you apart. This was a death sentence. Eventually you managed to splutter, “I hope you three sleep well.”</p><p>He ripped his mouth from the bar and licked his lips, prowling out of your line of sight with the other two at his heels. </p><p>You didn’t sleep at all that morning and by the time the cells were unlocked you wished you actually had made a shiv if only to go down fighting. Assigned to the laundry room again once more the rest of the trolls were alarmingly quiet when they spoke. There was a tension in the room that had you nearly lighting the steamer machines aflame. You were being followed and knew who it was. You didn’t bother looking behind you to search for the source. It was one of three options.</p><p>Into the mess hall you took your food to an empty seat in the corner and you nearly gave yourself a panic attack at thinking of how you’d be attacked here. Even if the utensils were some new cardstock thing and harmless, it didn’t mean the trays couldn’t be used as a weapon. There weren’t many guards here - or in the showers or bathrooms - so you’d be vulnerable. You couldn't even pee in peace anymore. Eating alone gave you the ability to notice when anyone approached and when you dumped your tray you almost went back to your cell to hide. They could be out there in the courtyard. There were guards but there were weapons. The weights, the metal of the bars could be removed somehow with their inhuman strength. You glanced at the stairs for your cell and decided if this was your last night it wouldn’t be inside a crummy building but underneath the stars.</p><p>You trudged onward, head held high and hands held behind your back. It was cool, and nearly every star was visible. It was a lovely view of the constellations and half-moon, still providing enough light in the open yard. On your way to your spot you saw Marklo was already there. You couldn’t help how happy you felt seeing him. “Hello.”</p><p>He wasn’t happy. “I keep thinking about what you said last night.”</p><p>You sat down and pulled your limbs close. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Usually humans confess so when they die so they have no regrets, right?” You nodded. “So why would you lie? Do you want me to feel sorry for you?” His nostrils flared and he turned to face you fully. You never noticed how big he was until he stared you down like that. “Do you think I’m going to step in and - what - protect you?”</p><p>You made a face. “I wouldn’t expect you to but if you did that would be very nice of you.”</p><p>“You’re a fucking idiot.”</p><p>You thinned your lips and leaned back against the building. “My conscience will be clear when I die.”</p><p>“You killed so many of us. You killed so many of your own kind!” You hesitated. You didn’t hear about the human death tolls. “Stop stop lying to me. I want to know the truth.”</p><p>“I told you the truth. I blacked out and suddenly I was being charged with mass murder.” Marklo didn’t like what you had to say and stood to head back toward his friends.</p><p> All alone, you only felt safe enough to watch the sky for a little bit before you headed inside. You made a detour to the bathrooms and peed like your life depended on it, glad you weren’t jumped inside or outside. On the way to your cell the lack of trolls outside of your room made you want to avoid the place entirely. Where were they? You knew they'd been following you all day. They were around somewhere.</p><p>You were glad for the mostly empty place so no one could be hiding anywhere inside. You locked the door and curled up in your bed facing the outside of the room. Unfortunately, you slept and had nightmares of being hunted by some unseen creature out in the forest.</p><p>You woke up with the buzz of the cells opening and stretched on the way out of bed. A trip to the bathroom and you were glad for the extra time heading downstairs to feed the highblood. One swipe later you stepped inside and pushed the cart to the center of the room. “Hello.” The troll hooked a finger around the handle of the cart and dragged it over, completely overlooking how close you were. Maybe you were getting somewhere with this beast. You backed away a few steps and watched him chow down. “Sorry for ranting the other day.” He didn’t seem to care. “I was stressed about these trolls that wanted to kill me.”</p><p>His crimson eyes swiveled up to you for a moment and then back down to the tray. </p><p>“Yeah. I haven’t done anything to anyone. They just...hate me. Which isn’t fair because like I said the other day I seriously don’t deserve to be here.” Your voice cracked. You felt your heart start to splinter apart. No one believed you. No one cared. “Everyone here is against me and there’s this one I would consider a friend if he didn’t hate my guts and think I was a liar-”</p><p><em> “Motherfucker I am not here to listen to you </em> bitch <em> about your motherfucking problems.” </em></p><p>Even muffled and monstrously deep and gravelly, the voice was easy to understand. The sudden words had you frozen to the spot and your jaw hung open. He...spoke. He spoke for the first time since you visited to tell you to shut the hell up. You snapped your mouth shut and allowed this new revelation to process. “You...speak.” He didn’t answer. He continued eating. “I...I didn’t realize.”</p><p>“So you just whined to hear your own voice.” He shovelled something into the slot and you could have sworn you saw his tongue flick out of the hole but you couldn’t be sure from the darkness. </p><p>You truly had no one here. You took a seat in the back of the room and kept to yourself. You had thought maybe you provided some comfort in this solitary confinement but maybe trolls didn’t actually need anyone. Your loneliness was a human factor no one had any consideration for. You tucked your face into the crooks of your crossed arms and let yourself imagine a place far from here. Back at home where you could watch television with your brother. When your mother cooked delicious meals almost every night your father didn’t bring back pizza or other greasy foods.</p><p>“If a motherfucker is trying to kill you just kill them first.”</p><p>You popped your head up. He was still willing to talk? Was it just your complaining that got on his nerves? You wiped at the stinging in your eyes and sniffled. “What?”</p><p>“Are you dumb <em> and </em>deaf? I said just kill them first.” He cupped the bowl of slop and didn’t look like he cared most of it was dribbling down the sides of his helmet. He dropped it from his hands onto the cart when he was finished and it bounced off the top and into the floor. The troll didn’t bother picking it up. “Survival of the motherfucking fittest. If these disgusting, weak-willed grubs can’t hold their own against an insignificant little worm like you then they don’t deserve to survive at all.”</p><p>You shook your head. “I’ve never killed anyone. I think the last time I got into a fight was in high school and that was years-”</p><p>“So you’re gonna lie there and take it?” He barked out a horrendous laugh similar to something you’d hear in a horror movie. Low and subharmonic it rattled your very bones. “<em> Pathetic </em>.”</p><p>You sneered. He didn’t have to be this rude about it. “I’m trying to convince them I’m not a murderer-”</p><p>He made a sloppy lick inside of his mouth and the chains rattled as he settled down on the floor. “I don’t want to listen to some motherfucking spineless-”</p><p>“I’ve had just about enough of your mouth!” You grit your teeth and jabbed a finger in his direction. “I liked it better when you didn’t speak, you know that?” You were glad for the silence and refrained from speaking any longer, relieved when he did the same. Time passed slowly and your idle thoughts were redirected to the fact that eventually you would be taken back upstairs to deal with the trio and who knows whoever else that wanted you dead.</p><p>The locks clicked after what felt like an extra hour and you stood, heading to the center of the room to get the cart, stepping around the metal to pick up his discarded bowl. “Hey,” his voice was low but even then it felt far too close to be comfortable. He was about four feet away, hazy red eyes scanning you from head to toe. God, he was massive.  “Are you just gonna let those motherfuckers kill you?”</p><p>He just wanted to follow up. This had been the most interesting thing to happen to him as of late. Even if he didn’t like hearing you complain you were willing to forgive him just this once. You slumped and shook your head, picking the bowl up from the ground, wiping the sticky residue on your jumpsuit off-handedly. “Even if I fight I won’t be able to win. I...I can’t do anything.”</p><p>The guard called for you from the doorway and you set the bowl back on the cart. “Well,” the trolls voice grew lighter, “if you’re going to die anyway I might as well have some motherfucking fun, don’t you think?”</p><p>The blood in your body drained from your face and pooled thickly in your gut. You felt your veins turn to ice at his matter-of-fact tone and realized the door was far too far away and the behemoth was right beside you. The air shifted so drastically it felt like whiplash and you were able to make it exactly one step toward the door before you were grabbed. The floor was ripped out from underneath you and his hands went around your stomach. Your screams were drown out by his hysterical laughter and the guard started shouting. You saw him try and grab something from his utility belt after that everything was a blur. </p><p>You were high in the air beside the light and felt yourself plummet faster than gravity would have dragged you back down. Your shoulder popped out of its socket on impact and pain shot up your arm as the bone in your bone forearm went in one direction and your upper arm stayed in place. You saw the bone tear through the skin and again you were pulled into the air and thrown back against the ground like a ragdoll. Your bones were cracking, your lungs weren’t working, the world was a blurred haze of dark lighting, the smell of the room and the copper of your blood. It was a miracle shock took hold when it did but you felt your jaw shift unnaturally beneath the skin, one of your legs cracked as something thicker broke.</p><p>Darkness came on the third and final fall and you hoped you never woke up again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter you're forced to deal with the aftermath of waking up.<br/>(ㆆ_ㆆ)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Somehow, you survived.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You know that scene in the Avengers movie where the Hulk grabs Loki and just starts swinging him around. That's basically what happened to you except a lot less funny and a lot more traumatic.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks for your concussions. Six weeks for your broken shoulder and ribs. Eight weeks for your jaw. Three months for your leg. Five or more months for the horrendous state of the compound fractures of your arm if you were ever able to use it again. </p><p>After getting lectured on safety protocols and a visit from someone from the state, you were relocated to a closer block and put under surveillance to make sure you were on the right path to recovery. The staff on hand were paired with guards in case you grew volatile but it was clear after a few days they had nothing to worry about. You were weak. Hardly able to do anything from dizziness and throwing up, you took pills to numb the pain and read books to give you something to do. In two weeks you read the autobiography of some conspiracy theorist and a young adults novel when it didn’t feel like your brain was trying to claw its way out of your skull through the back of your eyes.</p><p>Once you healed from your concussion you were put back into your cell and told the guards would stop by more frequently to make sure nothing else happened from your traumatic attack. Your leg and arm were bandaged in a cast and for a while it was uncertain if you should be shipped to another facility while you healed. They debated how you would use crutches and how easily those crutches could be used as a weapon if they allowed you to have them.</p><p>They said they’d give it a shot without and see how it went.</p><p>Your first night back had several trolls peeking around the walls of your cell to get a look at you, eyes wide and mouth open at whatever they found. You remained seated on your bed, hazy from the medication and exhaustion, unable to get up. Eventually you would be forced to rise to go to the bathroom and <em>that</em> was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of your life. You’d deal with the pain if not to have some young woman help pull down your pants because you couldn’t bend down and sit properly thanks to your mangled ribs. While the guard on standby wasn’t watching, the nurse had noticed your frustrated tears and was kind enough not to mention them as she dabbed at your face with a napkin.</p><p>Also, your mouth was filled with metal so you couldn’t tell them to leave even if you wanted to. You refused to look in a mirror. If you were a fraction as mutilated as you felt…</p><p>It took you a bit to recognize that the troll standing directly in front of the cell some days later was Marklo and he seemed to argue with himself on something. You were almost glad for the inability to move your face at all from the swelling when he opened the cell door and came inside. Fear struck swiftly. You couldn’t defend yourself at all. He could be here to finish the job. You had no one here - everyone was out to get you.</p><p>He glanced over his shoulder and lingered a bit inside your room. “I...we all thought you were dead.”</p><p>You blinked slowly. How were you supposed to respond to that? You thought you were dead too.</p><p>“No one’s ever actually been grabbed by the highblood.” How fortunate. You narrowed your good eye. He made a little spin in your cell and at that moment you wondered if he was trying to find something. The medication kept you sluggish but you had enough awareness to know if he wanted a weapon it would certainly be your end. “You don’t have anything do you?” Any what? He must have caught on because he snorted, “Anything. Like, no decorations, no posters, no books?”</p><p>Oh. You hummed quietly. No. You didn’t have anything. You never made enough money and it wasn’t like anyone wanted to send you anything.</p><p>His presence seemed to fill up the room with every footstep and you felt yourself getting closer to losing it. You hadn’t spoken to him since your confession and he seemed pretty upset about the idea of you lying to him. He twisted and suddenly sat himself down on the end of your bed. You struggled to turn your aching neck to watch him out of the corner of your eye. </p><p>He propped his elbows on his knees and shrugged. “Not like you’re much of a threat like this.”</p><p>The jab was right there. You struggled to clear the cotton sensation in your throat to gargle out, “So you were afraid of me back then.” It had a lisp, and sounded raspy but it was to be expected. You hoped he understood you.</p><p>His smirk told you that he did. “Like I said before I wasn’t afraid of you. I was just cautious.”</p><p>Trolls would come by and gawk in curiosity or disgust at the sight of you before moving on. Marklo filled you in on whatever you missed during the last two weeks and you clung to every word, drinking in the gossip you didn’t even know existed in a place like this. Names of his friends and enemies were dropped and you tried to remember them all. Eventually you had to use the bathroom and Marklo headed to the mess hall, not going out of his way to flag you down when you grabbed your nutrition shake once you made your way downstairs. You didn’t know if it was actually the kindling of a friendship or if he was just gathering intel to bring back to his group but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth.</p><p>You ate, avoided going outside and headed back to your cell to lie down. A guard tapped the bars loud enough to rouse you from your slumber and left. Mabe checking to make sure you weren’t dead. Just before curfew you headed to the office to take your medicine and luckily it was enough to pull you back into sleep.</p><p>Days passed like this. You tried your hand at working but you were slow and ineffective. You couldn’t fold clothes as nice as you had but you could shake them out and shove them into the washing machine. There wasn’t much you could cook with one hand and rolling out bread was rough. You settled for measuring and getting everything ready for someone else to finish. Inventory was by far the nicest Purpose. You only needed one hand to drag over small boxes and cans and even if your handwriting was abborhent since it was with your non-dominant it could still be read when you filled out the proper sheets. </p><p>It was at this time the facility realized how little you could do and applied you to inventory and a newer job: License plate making. </p><p>The room wasn’t particularly large but it made up for it with how loud it was. A machine cranked out numbers and letters on a metal sheet that would then be fed into another machine to be cut into the usual strips. It wasn’t like how it used to be in the movies. Someone aligned the symbols into order and pressed it down into a machine, another ground out some type of metal, your job was to make sure once the plates were imprinted they were put into a cycling treadmill to be printed on. </p><p>The earmuffs were nice but also made you nervous since you wouldn’t be able to hear anyone coming after you like this. The room was hot and the rumbles of the machines had your headache coming back in full force but you powered through without complaint until you were dismissed.</p><p>You hadn’t even grabbed food that day when you stumbled tiredly back to your cell and collapsed, begging your migraine to go away.</p><p>Three more weeks for your shoulders and ribs to be healed and Marklo was surprised to hear how long it was taking. “You would have been culled back on Alternia. Unless you know someone who knows someone this weakness would never be allowed.” You grumbled and shrugged your good shoulder. “Not that I give two shits but you should watch your back. You might have been intimidating when you first came here but now you’re free game.”</p><p>You thinned your lips and scowled, already knowing this to be true. He grinned, “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. You did make a name for yourself by not dying though. Well, as big of a name as Trollhunter. This just proves how hard it is to kill you.”</p><p>You shuffled onto your mattress until your back hit the wall. The cheap bedding dipped when he made himself comfortable less than a foot away. “How long do you think I’ll last here.” You slurred heavily on the word ‘last’ and almost drooled. </p><p>“If you don't do something to put them in their place?” He gazed ahead through the bars, eyes tracking the trolls on the walkway on the other side of the foyer. “Not too long, I think.”</p><p>Survived an animal attack only to still die from being jumped in prison. The troll trio had been loitering in your peripheral but they hadn’t approached you since you returned. Time had been going by slowly, a little over two months in here and you were reduced to a shambling, broken meat body bound together in staples, metal rods and paper. Something cruel unfurled in your chest. You knew who to partially blame for this. You swallowed before you spoke again. “Tell me about the highblood downstairs.”</p><p>He perked up at that and tucked one leg underneath his knee. This was a story he seemed eager to tell. “We think it’s the Grand Highblood from our homeworld. He used to be leader of this religious cult hellbent on keeping everyone in their caste contained. See, only trolls of the lower end of the spectrum can easily pass through the portal coming here. Don’t know how or why but it’s done a lot to keep us safe and helped us get out of that place. Somehow he managed to brute force his way in. The story changes with everyone who tells it since anyone that was there didn’t make it out alive.”</p><p>You squinted. If no one made it out alive how did he hear of the story?</p><p>“Eventually he was taken down by your ‘anti-troll’ weapons but they didn’t kill him. They just weakened him, tied him up and dragged him away. He ended up here and he’s been here ever since.” </p><p>“Was he always so aggressive?” </p><p>“The whole caste is blood-thirsty. Every single one of them - especially those of the cult.” Marklo hissed through his teeth, “Being trapped here on this planet might have finally pushed him over the edge though. Beyond his regular insanity. Hasn’t spoken in years and no one knows if he even can anymore.”</p><p>The thought of a mentally deranged troll selectively going mute other than to tell you off drug up a wad of resentment. As if he hadn’t insulted you enough he was able to find a moment of clarity for the sole purpose of being mean.</p><p>“Hm.” It would keep you up at night. “How much longer does he have here?”</p><p>“Oh, he’ll probably be here forever. If there’s a chance you think you’ll get years taken off your sentence I doubt he ever will.” Marklo paused, “You were pretty sure Maryon would kill you but the highblood managed to get to you first.” His tone wasn’t humorous. If anything said it just to simply mention it as if you hadn’t noticed. “Ironic.”</p><p>You two separated a bit after. Showering took so long that the water was shut off from the timer in the stall. You had to use some rags and wipe down the parts of you that weren’t in casts because you didn’t know what would happen if you managed to get them wet but didn’t want to chance it. Your new pants had a zipper down the side so all you had to do was slide your good leg in - while propped up against something - and then zip down the other side. It didn’t help that both your limbs on the same side of your body were ruined. Twisting yourself to reach the zipper edges felt like your lungs were being crushed. </p><p>You saw a few trolls walk away from your cell as you hobbled up the stairs and told yourself they had just been passing by.</p><p>Six days. Almost a full week after Marklo told you to watch yourself it happened. You were sequestered away from everyone in the mess hall at a table and two trolls sat directly across and beside you. You gnashed your teeth together and faked your courage, peering from one to another, checking their faces and hands for signals or weapons. The one beside you was breathing heavily, his eyes tinged darker than usual, the one across had her hands on the edge of the table away from her food.</p><p>A slow hush went around the mess hall and you could hear your own rasping breaths through your nose, a hiss through your slightly parted teeth. You had a plastic cup partially filled with a nutritional shake since you couldn’t work your jaw - even if it could easily be taken into your hands it wouldn’t be an effective weapon. You desperately tried to think of a way to diffuse the situation but nothing came to mind. You were too afraid. </p><p>You wouldn’t make it to the door in time if you tried to run - you couldn’t run with your broken leg.</p><p>The troll on the right suddenly moved and you felt his claws slice your ear open when you dipped to the left to avoid getting grabbed. His hand flew past your head and slapped the table with such a deafening bang it sounded like a gunshot in the quiet. The room exploded into noise, voices came from all around: whoops of excitement and cheers, calls for the guards, others screamed at how they would get into trouble. You were out of your seat and brought up your good hand into a fist. Your neck locked up from the quick motion and you felt spittle drip down your lip from the sound you made as lightning agony ricochet down your spine. Warmth trickled along the side of your neck and you hobbled out of the way when the troll made another grab, this time the front of your shirt sliced apart, the skin just beneath splitting easily. </p><p>You were tackled to the ground by the other troll and took every brutish punch full force. She was <em> strong </em>. Stronger than anyone you’d ever met her fist buried itself into the middle of your chest and ripped the air from your lungs. Your eyes sprung with tears as you struggled to breathe. Her blows battered your already busted body and the world around you flickered like a dying light. The cheers turned into a muffled roar as if you were submerged underwater and you saw an additional hands reach for your body when you blacked out.</p><p>You woke up in the infirmary and the tears came instantly. It was hard to think beyond the heavy ache of your body and the stiffness of your neck. You cried quietly and stared up at the fluorescent lights until your eyes burned, the details foggy and blurred. When there were no more tears left to cry and your chest throbbed with every beat of your heart, you slung your arm over your eyes to block out the rest of the world. The few minutes of peace felt like seconds when the door opened.</p><p>“The cameras caught everything.” The gruff voice of one of the human guards told you, his voice coming out odd. “Since you didn’t instigate this and you didn’t fight back there will be no repercussions. You will be discharged from here in ten minutes and escorted back to your cell.”</p><p>You couldn’t look at him. You’d start crying if you did and offered a thumbs up as acknowledgement. He left and someone else came into the room to check you over. As the guard said, not ten minutes later he returned and uncuffed your ankles and the wrap around your stomach. You brought your hand up to cup the side of your face and felt the gauze around your ear. That’s why everything sounded different. You limped back to your cell and noticed that through the miniscule windows near the rafters of the prison, light was shining through. You must have been out for hours for it to be daytime.</p><p>The guard opened your cell and locked it behind you, walking away before you even made it to your bed. You cried yourself to sleep and the buzzer for nighttime came far too soon.</p><p>Nothing happened for eight days. Marklo hadn’t even spoken to you and you mourned his loss. You were back to having no one yet again and toiled in the warehouse scooting cans around and telling yourself you’d make it up to yourself by buying something decent with the money you saved. You hadn’t been outside in what was probably a month and wanted to see the stars again but it would take a bit for the guards to get to you out in the courtyard if you were attacked again.</p><p>After picking up your shake from the cooks someone grabbed your arm and another kicked your leg out from underneath you. You hit the ground hard with only one arm to catch yourself and watched the murky puddle of your meal spread out across the floor. </p><p>You simply got up without acknowledging anyone and went back to your cell to curl up.</p><p>It was starting to get frequent. Less days would pass and someone would try something. They dumped their soups over your head, they shoved you to the side when you tried walking by. They hounded you in the showers for taking too long even though you had just gotten under the spray. Outside of the bathrooms they would get hansy, grabbing you by the arm to sling you into a wall or grabbing fistfuls of your hair to hiss scathing words into your face.</p><p>You took it all with a straight face and said nothing. Your shoulder had been feeling better but your jaw still had a week or so to go before the metal could be removed. Those working in the infirmary said it might have taken longer because of the rough treatment you endured. They didn’t sound too sympathetic.</p><p>A week later and you kept your head underneath the icy water of the showers, the rest of your body still getting sprinkled despite your caution. You didn’t feel like you. You kept your constant fear and hatred bundled up into a little ball so tight inside of you it only grew with every day of torment. The tiles on the wall dripped with condensation and you reached out to put your hands against it, leaving behind a small print that was quickly misted over.</p><p>Someone on the stall knocked and you shut off the water and dressed without drying yourself off. They had stolen every towel you recieved. You were starting to get used to going to bed soaking. You were yanked out and stumbled to catch yourself, continuing on like nothing happened and noticing the time. It was still several hours until curfew. You had drunk your shake and work was taken care of. Turning your neck to the double doors at the end of the room that lead toward the courtyard you were tempted to just give in and see the stars. </p><p>Self-preservation told you these trolls could still beat you up and leave you worse off than you already were. You headed upstairs into your cell and when the door was nearly shut a gray hand snapped out to hold it open. “Wait.”</p><p>You stepped back and blinked. “Marklo?”</p><p>He opened the door again and sighed, checking your face and cocking his head to the side to look at your attire. “You’re wet.”</p><p>“They took my towels.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes and crowded your personal space, backing you up until your legs hit the edge of your bed and you awkwardly sat down. He didn’t take a seat. “Listen, I’m just going to come out and ask what we’ve all been wondering.”</p><p>You could guess what the question would be.</p><p>“Why haven’t you been fighting back?” He slung an arm out behind him, “I would have snapped by now. I would have just accepted the fact I would go to solitary if only to get back at the assholes treating me like this. We’ve all been waiting for it. We know you’ll kill again so just do it!”</p><p>You wiggled into a better position and laid down on the thin mattress. You didn’t know what to say to him that you hadn’t already said before. He stepped closer and snarled. In his jaws, every other pair of teeth were sharp, the ones in between a smaller, dull point. He didn’t seem to mind your separation but you missed him. “What did you do to get sent to prison?”</p><p>He faltered and reared back. “What? Why does - I stole a bunch of shit from some humans and stashed it all in a warehouse to sell to the black market. Happy?”</p><p>“And you got sent <em> here </em>?”</p><p>“I also beat up some cops while I was trying to escape. Stop trying to change the subject!” He suddenly leaned down and you tried getting away from him by digging your head into the pillow. One arm was beside your cheek, the other was propped up against the wall. You could smell lunch and sweat on him this close. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”</p><p>You could touch him again. Your fingers itched by your hip and you brought it up to your stomach to play with your shirt. “Cause I won’t win. You’re trolls. I’m just a human.”</p><p>“You’re a serial killer.”</p><p>You shook your head and told yourself you’d remember the details of his face this close. You were so lonely. So unbelievably isolated you would do anything for some contact. What would he do if you touched him, you wondered. “I’m not.”</p><p>He straightened and threw his head back to sigh at the ceiling. You missed the proximity and sat up just to be closer to someone that didn’t want to hurt you. “We’re doing this again, huh.” He ran a hand through his choppy hair and settled his hands on his hips, “You know I’ll never believe you.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“You know I could care less about what everyone here does to you.”</p><p>You didn’t bother hiding the way your voice shook. “I know.”</p><p>“They’ll kill you.”</p><p>You couldn’t hold your head up any longer. You were so tired of this. You stared at the way his chest rose and fell with every slow inhale. Hearing his threat didn’t bring out the same dread as it had before. You’d been sitting on this since you arrived and you were ready for it to end. This felt like giving up. “I know.”</p><p>He went still and suddenly started mumbling. His hands flew up and you jerked back to dodge a hit that never came. He growled in his alien language, spitting with every animalistic curse and snarl. He paced like a caged beast and his eyes bloomed a hateful shade. His footsteps were heavy with every long stride and with a furious roar he threw open the partially shut door until the clang rang sharp into the room and out into the foyer space.</p><p>You gave yourself time to try and process what happened but found no cause for his actions. True, he was frustrated but usually anyone fed up with you yelled or struck you. He hadn’t done either.</p><p>You got up, shut the cell door and curled back up into bed to stare at the wall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When I write these chapters they're actually around 10k and I'm trying to slice them into smaller chunks so it's not so overwhelming. Some of them might be the full regular chapter cause I don't want to ruin the flow but I'll try to go for like, ~5k in the future.<br/>(„• ֊ •„)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Dish Best Served Cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You encounter the Highblood again, only this time you don't feel quite as helpless as you should.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note that this chapter has some cruelty in it under the guise of vengeance but it isn't just revenge. Pain and suffering tends to change you a bit and make you bitter but you know, sometimes it's hard to be the bigger person. Especially when the one being a bully is literally so much bigger than you.</p><p>Also, you bond a bit with your only friend.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As it turned out, the metal in your mouth was set to stay for at least another week and a half after they got a good look at what they were dealing with. You slurped down meal mixes alone in the cafeteria and hobbled over to drop off the cup. Behind you there were whispers about the highblood attacking someone else - that it was the fifth one since you. All of them were sent to the hospital with gouges on their bodies, their intestines nearly spilled, and one had their hand bitten off entirely. </p><p>It couldn’t be retrieved. </p><p>You were woken up early the next day by a guard ordering you to follow him. You did as asked and after a bit of fumbling and squeezing around trolls blocking your path downstairs you froze when a familiar cart was wheeled into view. “You know what to do.”</p><p>A chill ran up your spine and you shook your head. You were still healing from that monster. You didn’t know if you’d get the use of your arm back - he nearly killed you. “Are you kidding me?” You gestured to your body, “You expect me to go back down-”</p><p>His hand brushed over the baton attached to his waist. “I do. Now get a move on.” For a moment you thought about disobeying him. You searched his eyes for anything other than the cruelty of his voice and found...nervousness. You spotted uncertainty. As if he realized you now knew he settled his hand fully on his weapon. “I said move.”</p><p>You hesitated. You weren’t sure why they put you back onto this job. Maybe it was because they wanted him to finish the job? What could have possibly made them think you were good for this? Briefly, you thought that this guard was pawning this job onto you to avoid coming in contact with the underground troll. He took a step closer and you merely grabbed onto the cart, giving him a slow blink and an irritated arch of your brow. You couldn’t fight him. “Lead the way.”</p><p>Trolls parted before the two of you and you entered the elevator alone, watching the man press the button on the other side until the closing doors blocked him from your sight. The shaft rattled and creaked, the plates on the cart softly clinked against the metal they sat on and when you made it to the bottom you almost didn’t leave. At the end of the hall he was waiting. You’d have to see him again. His terrible eyes and overwhelming presence. He led you into a false sense of security and attacked when he found his chance. Your only comfort was knowing you wouldn’t be tricked again - at least not like before.</p><p>You pushed the cart along the decrepit hallway and heard your own breathing echo back. In front of the door that contained the demon your eyes watered and hands shook. You couldn’t believe you had to go back in there. You’d have to be in there with him until someone found it fitting to come down and get you. Inhaling slowly and wiping your sweaty palms against your shirt, you slid the card and cringed at the hiss of the locks.</p><p>It was as dark as it was before and the smell was still just as unpleasant. It took a bit longer to get inside and drag the cart along since you kept bumping it into your cast but you made it work. The door locked behind you when you made it inside and you gathered what little wits you had to put on your best poker face, finally turning to the highblood.</p><p>He rose with a stretch and it was a miniscule win that he seemed shocked to see you. While he examined your sorry state you noticed the new layers of blood and muck on the ground, all different colors, yours the only red splattered on the floor and against the wall off to the side. The memories came hurtling back and you squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing down the vomit that surged back up from your aching belly.</p><p>“I thought I killed you.” There was a surprised laughter in his voice. Unearthly deep and rumbling like it had a physical presence. </p><p>You didn’t bother speaking and tried focusing inward to get your legs to work. You couldn’t move. Locked in with this beast you were torn between every attempt at self-preservation. Run? No, you couldn't escape. Scream? No, no one would hear you. Bartering would be stupid - you had nothing this troll would want. Fight back? He would just hurt you again. </p><p>“You’re afraid.” </p><p>You squeezed your eyes shut harder, colorful fireworks sparking off behind your eyelids and tried to get your limbs to move. He laughed and you felt your eyes burn, tears welling up suddenly. Air got stuck in your throat and you almost choked. He said a few more alien words but you found the courage to move your good hand and regrip the handle of the cart. A small success. You’d have to get closer and that meant moving your legs. Come on. Pick one up, balance yourself, quickly hop forward onto your good leg and scoot forward again. It would be all right. You would be okay.</p><p>“Motherfuckers got you all dressed up don’t they!” His laughter grew louder and you cringed, desperately scraping at your mental reserves to not completely break down. He lowered his head and shifted his attention turning to the cart. </p><p>You managed to take a step closer before you <em> couldn’t </em>. He would grab you. He would trick you again and you wouldn’t survive another encounter. It hurt so much the first time. It had been what, almost two months and you still had how many more weeks to go before you could use your arm and leg? You’d need physical therapy. Even after you healed you would be even worse off than before.</p><p>The giant troll did not care. He didn’t give a single shit about wrecking your body and seeing you hobble into his cell like a lame creature. </p><p>Marklo said he used to slaughter trolls because of their blood colors. Because apparently that mattered above all else. That he was at the top and he stayed there and anyone beneath him could suffer. You weren’t sure what life was like exactly over there but oppression didn’t sound like a good time. He straightened and cocked his head to the side, “Well motherfucker?” </p><p>He just wanted his food. He saw your bandages and bruises and laughed straight in your face. This creature was nothing but blind rage and hatred. Pure violence in its rawest form.</p><p>“You...I…”</p><p>“You what, bitch?” The chains rattled like high pitched laughter. He drew himself as high as he could go and something smacked into the ceiling near the lights. He was oozing satisfaction, looking down on you. That tightly packaged bundle of frustration and fears in your belly finally exploded. It twisted sharply, burning hot like magma that shot through your veins and left your limbs shaking. For a moment, it was as though you had fully adjusted to the darkness of the room and peered back into the cat-like slits of the monstrous trolls eyes. </p><p>You <em> hated </em>him. You hated him more than anything. You lived a lonely life and knew it would be terrible but it was because of his actions that others now had the courage to lash out. He was the catalyst in your suffering. </p><p>Maintaining eye contact, you held onto the handle of the cart and in one smooth motion flipped it over. Food splattered and rolled across the floor, plates and bowls crashed into one another and warbled as they wobbled a fraction, the space inside of the cart hummed until it quieted into nothing. You backed up toward the door of the room and sat down, stretching your legs out in front of you with your arms in your lap.</p><p>The highblood drew in four slow breaths by the time he moved. You assumed he mimicked your sprawl from across the room, his chains following along, the rattling reverberated. He sat down and let out a low chuckle but said not a single word.</p><p>You spent the entire time staring at each other in dead silence until the door locks hissed and light sprinkled into the room. You hoisted yourself to your feet and picked up every bowl and plate, setting them neatly back into their spots on the cart. When it was flipped upright you pushed it out the room without so much as a glance to the guard that got you.</p><p>Your act of cruelty let you sleep just a little bit better that night.</p><p>When you woke up next night you decided it would be the day you went outside. You ate, cautious of anyone’s feet or flailing hands, and loitered beside the drop-off receptacle so when you finished you could dump it and leave. Only twenty-six or so people cut you in line today. Small wins.</p><p>After helping craft license plates and work was over, you slid past the open double doors to the courtyard and squinted at the outside world. The full moon had almost been too bright. The stars far above, safely nestled in the black abyss of space, shone magically. It was nice to see your spot was still available but instead of settling down you remained standing. Your head thumped against the concrete and you searched for the north star. There. The little dipper. Orion’s belt. Cassiopeia. </p><p>“It’s been a while since I saw you out here.” You smiled as best as you could at Marklo as he approached. “Back on feeding duty?” You stopped smiling. The highblood went hungry last night but similarly, you didn’t seem to care too much. He noticed your reaction and took it differently. “I was nervous seeing him again too. He didn’t exactly break half my bones the last time we met but…” It was nice being consoled. He propped himself up against the building beside you and craned his neck back. “What do you even look for when you stare out there?”</p><p>You took your time telling him about the constellations. About how the universe was ever expanding and how time travelled differently, how bright the lights must be since you were even able to see a speck of it lightyears away. You told him about Polaris and gestured to the little dipper but he didn’t seem to spot it. You stuck your good arm straight up. “Orions’ belt. It’s those three stars all in a line.”</p><p>“Fuck no.” He bobbed his head and turned it this way and that. “How can you tell any of them apart? You humans have bad enough eyesight as it is - I know you’re making it up.”</p><p>You tried again but it wasn’t until he brushed against your side to follow exactly where your finger was that he saw it. You took the opportunity to point out what other constellations you knew before trailing off. You didn’t know all of them and you were pretty sure you couldn’t even see all of them from where you were.</p><p>Marklo nudged your shoulder with his own and gave you some space. “You should come out here more often. It’s strange to see you here for a month straight and then not at all.”</p><p>You would like to. “There aren’t many guards around here. It would be a while for anyone to get to me if they try to attack.”</p><p>He hissed. “Just defend yourself.”</p><p>“With what?” You drawled. “How?” You fully turned to him and waited to see where he would take the conversation. Hopefully somewhere it hadn’t been several times before. His mouth opened and shut a few times before he mumbled out ‘punch them’ and gave up. “That’s what I thought.” Marklo remained even after you soiled the atmosphere, quietly turning to the topic of Alternia.</p><p>You learned the lower caste were mostly workers and slaves but life wasn’t so bad. They still had food and shelter. Most could still afford to buy new gadgets or watch - what you eventually understood to be their version of - movies. Marklo was a merchant, pandering fabrics and gidgets. He tried to own a pawn shop but people assumed all of his wares were stolen and refused to do business with a troll. He took it upon himself to take that idea and make it real, breaking into homes far away and bringing them back to his shop to sell at higher prices. He nabbed vases, televisions, video game systems, computers, and just about anything he could lift off the ground and stuff into his van.</p><p>Eventually someone's security camera found him and when the cops came he panicked and fought back when he tried to get away. On Alternia usually you dealt with issues yourself, especially if you were in the lower class. A few fights and posturing and you’d find a happy medium.</p><p>“Even with stealing?”</p><p>He made a face and shrugged. “Depends on the troll.”</p><p>You headed inside after an hour or so of casual banter. About the food, the weather or lack thereof, other inmates and change of guards and commissary items. You needed to see how much money you had. If it were possible you’d buy yourself something nice to share with Marklo as thanks for being there when you had literally no one.</p><p>On your way upstairs you thought you saw one of the trolls come out of your cell and made a highly inspected sweep of your surroundings before you went to bed. Maybe the guards would let you lock it up when you left if you played your cards right.</p><p>The guards were back the next night requesting you to bring food down to the highblood yet again before you had the proper time to wake up. You didn’t understand it and asking had them irate. Fine. Not fifteen minutes after you rolled out of bed you shouldered open the basement cell and held onto the hatred you felt at seeing the giant. He was waiting for his food and in the darkness you heard him snarl. He wasn’t as shocked to see you as he had been the last time apparently but when he rolled his shoulders and moved his head you were able to see a bit of his fangs through the little slot in his helmet. </p><p>No. That wouldn’t do at all. You grabbed a heavy plate and allowed him to posture a bit more before you dumped it on the floor at your feet. The following sound was subharmonic. It felt like a bubble in your ears and the rev of a diesel engine. You wiggled a finger against your ear to help get rid of the sensation. “No growling.”</p><p>Much like the first time you encountered him the sheer volume of his roar threw you off guard. It assaulted your senses and you shut your eyes to keep from falling over or running away. When he finished you blinked at him and grabbed another plate, never turning away from him as the food slid off of the plate to land wetly against the stained stone flooring. This repeated itself until nothing was on the cart and you wheeled it beside the door to settle down. </p><p>The guard came and you merely left. Someone shoulder-checked you on the plate machine and you sliced your palm open but luckily it wasn’t that deep of a scratch. A large bandage stopped the bleeding and you were back to work in no time at all. </p><p>Outside the clouds returned to shield your view of the sky and you didn’t bother sticking around. You had returned to your mattress sooner than anyone anticipated and you were glad there were no stragglers suspiciously loitering.</p><p>Time passed. You were shoved and scratched, pushed around and every other day you dumped the highbloods food on the floor whenever he threw a tantrum. You were surprised you hadn’t gotten scolded yet. Surely whoever else fed the troll would notice all of the food thrown on the ground and asked someone about it. Eventually the guards would step inside and when they found out...you weren’t sure what would happen. Solitary confinement? Lengthening your time here?</p><p>Marklo was there to keep you company on starry nights but something seemed to distract him when your conversations started to die down. He seemed...conflicted about something. He’d watch you like you wronged him and then he’d mutter to himself and shake his head on his way back to his friends. It was happening more frequently than you’d like. </p><p>The metal was eventually removed from your mouth halfway through the next month and replaced with gauze and antibiotics to help with the bleeding alongside more medicine for the swelling. You woke up in a particularly foul mood with aching cheeks and recognized the sound of a guards footsteps coming to your cell. “Feeding time.”</p><p>You hesitated. That couldn’t be right. “I fed him yesterday.”</p><p>He waved you along and you groaned, getting to your feet. “It was decided since you’ve been having such a good streak with him we assigned it to you full time.” You threw your head back and groaned, the pain behind your eyes increasing as your blood pressure skyrocketed. You’d be seeing the bastard every morning now. </p><p>Downstairs you swiped the card and roughly pushed the cart inside. The highblood was silent. “I have bad news, buddy.” You patted the side of the cart and listened to it chime. “They’re assigning me to you from here on out.” You gave him time to let it sink in. He had been getting meals every other day but now as long as you were here and in charge you’d make sure he wasn’t fed at all. A full month of partial starvation and still he bellowed and foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog. How much of that would change after a week? You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, honestly. From what Marklo told you of the freaky clown cult he deserved this and more.</p><p>From the back of the room he shuffled. You picked up a plate from the cart and poked at the hard outer shell. A grubloaf, you think Marklo called it, or something similar. “I want to make a deal with you.”</p><p>The sudden shrieking of chains and the trolls rushing toward you took you off guard. You staggered back and hit the wall. Spit flew out of the highblood’s helmet in your direction, tinted a strange purple. He began howling in his alien language, yanking his arms up toward the ceiling and snapping them taut. You didn’t notice because of his hair but there were three collars wrapped snug against his throat just under the bottom of the helmet, each in different directions attached to the floor. They sprinkled dust and rust chippings and the chains holding his arms did the same. He fought against the restraints like a beast possessed and belted out a very obvious murderous call that had you fumbling for the handle of the door even though you knew it was locked. </p><p>He kept at it the entire time, struggling against the chains and rods and whatever else held him here. The sound barreled into your skull and you slapped your good hand over an ear, wishing your other was out of the cast so you could protect the other one.</p><p>The guard came back and you were quick to drag the cart out into the hallway, shutting the door for him to stop the ringing in your ears. “What happened?”</p><p>He sounded so loud and quiet at the same time. You thumped your head against the door and struggled to even out your breathing. You could feel the vibrations through the doorway and knew he was still fighting on the other side. You had royally pissed him off this time but with a wall to separate the two of you you felt a little safer. Straightening up and taking a hold of the cart, you eyed the food and shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t hungry.”</p><p>You had to exercise your jaw muscles every night before bed and stretch your leg once the cast was removed. Your new freedom...wasn’t wasn’t what you expected. There was a smell and the feel of open air felt too raw and tingly on your skin. The muscles were stiff and you had a hard time supporting your weight on it. They denied your request for a crutch, arguing against that it could be used as a weapon and you barely refrained from countering it with the fact you could have easily taken one of the knives from the kitchen.</p><p>That thought brought you back into the light to a degree. You were so angry and bitter now. Your only outlet was the highblood and you had to do something with him eventually. You couldn’t starve him forever. Either he’d grow weak enough that the workers would get involved or the piles of molding food grew too high to be unnoticable. </p><p>You limped your way downstairs and had to lean against the elevator wall for support. You had to do something with yourself or you’d grow into the type of person you didn’t want to become. Pushing the cart back into the highbloods cell the snarl was instant and you held up your good hand. “I’m still willing to make that deal if you’ll hear me out.”</p><p>He shouted something that was one of the hundreds he already called you. In his native tongue you didn’t know what it meant but you assumed you’d be insulted if you did.</p><p>You let him rant and rave until the guard came and you wheeled out the cart, “He wasn’t hungry again.”</p><p>“Think he might be sick?”</p><p>The last thing you wanted was for the guard to step inside so you played it casual. “Sick in the head maybe.”</p><p>The guard’s short laugh felt like a win in your books.</p><p>You met up with Marklo outside and he made a noise of surprise at your leg. “Finally got out of that thing huh? Your mouth too.” His hand came out to touch your cheeks and you stiffened. His hands were cool and your eyelids felt heavy. At that moment all of your worries started to wash away, like a balm to your pent up emotions one little touch felt like heaven. His hand pulled away and you almost leaned into it as it left. “I guess that’s healing properly. I don’t know much about humans to be honest.”</p><p>“If you have any questions I can answer them.” You rubbed at your knee and went to work stretching your leg out and curling it inward. You’d need to make sure you got back into the habit of using it so it would make up for all the time out of use. The muscles atrophied a bit and you didn’t know how long it would take until you could stand tall again.</p><p>“In that case-” Marklo was full of questions. Humans only had four “sharp” teeth in their mouth. They could choke much easier than trolls if they weren’t careful. Healing technology and medicines were incredible but cost more than most could afford. The skin was thin and nails hardly strong enough to be used for fighting. You couldn’t eat raw foods or even undercooked foods. You answered every question and he grew tense when he brought up relationships.</p><p>“It’s probably similar to yours. We have friends and best friends. Acquaintances. Partners-”</p><p>“Tell me about your partners.”</p><p>You could do that. “I don’t have one personally. Usually it’s when someone feels attraction towards another person. Sometimes it’s sexual. Sometimes it isn’t. Most of the time it’s both. We go out on dates and if we think we’re compatible we get married.”</p><p>He clicked his tongue. “I remember hearing about marriage before - a quasi-permanent bonding.” That was one way to put it. You nodded regardless. He patted his thigh and his attention turned elsewhere. “Trolls have quadrants.” That sounded vaguely familiar. All you remembered was that it was complicated and hard to understand for humans. “There are four of them: Kismesissitude, Matespritship, Auspisticism, and… Moirallegiance. Matesprit is similar to your dating and marriage in a way. It’s one of the pale quadrants. Sexual. Based on attraction and how much you like your companion. A kismesis is the other half of that. It’s a pitch quadrant based on hatred and respect. A loathing for someone that goes beyond platonic hatred.” </p><p>Noticing your facial expression he tried to further elaborate. He gestured and waved his arms as he tried to explain but it only further confused you, mentioning how matesprit and kismesis could overlap if pitch feelings get too strong. How could you hate someone and decide to be in a relationship? The closest you could imagine would be hate-fucking and while he agreed to some part of that it wasn’t quite the same. He luckily let it drop. “Auspisticism is a third party pitch quadrant. It’s ah, what do you humans call it, like an intervention. If two trolls keep switching between pale and pitch or if they already have a red or pitch partner and another contestant arrives, if a troll starts to feel ashen feelings they’re allowed to act as a mediator and keep them separate. It keeps infidelity from happening in either of the reproductive quadrants.”</p><p>You didn’t say anything for a bit. The flood of troll relationships simmered at the top of your mind and only some of it soaked in. It did sound complicated. “I’m going to be honest and say I didn’t understand all of that but I think I got the gist. A quick question. How can there be infidelity if you already have a matesprit and a kismesis? Isn’t that cheating?”</p><p>He scoffed. “No. You’re allowed to fill out one of each quadrant.”</p><p>“So you can have a relationship with four other people?”</p><p>“<em> Five actually </em>and your terminology differs from our own. Remember that.” Oh, that sounded somewhat sharp. You held up your hands to placate him and he continued with a firm nod, “The last quadrant is moirallegiance. The other pale emotion, a moirail keeps their partner grounded. It…” His voice softened. “Their purpose is to keep their eye on each other and make sure they feel supported. A moirail is someone you can talk to. It’s to keep them in line and prevent them from becoming an otherwise danger or nuisance to the public.</p><p>“The goal is to have a matesprit, a kismesis, and a moirail. Ashen feelings come to the troll that feels like there’s a need so if you don’t feel it personally and you remain loyal there it’s all right to have just three of the four.” He stood and stretched. “You humans are all black and white with no shades in between.”</p><p>You smiled and struggled to get to your feet. “I’ll have you know we have an entire book dedicated to shades of gray.”</p><p>He paused and glanced at you suspiciously, “I feel like you’re making a joke here but I don’t know what it is and I’m not going to ask.” His nose wrinkled as if he caught a whiff of something terrible. “So how about you leave the humor to someone else.” </p><p>You felt your shoulders shake in a laugh and caught yourself smiling. It had been so long since you’d been able to sit and relax. You said your goodbyes and made it all the way back to your cell in a pleasant enough mood. However, entering the room had your happiness fading. Something was off. You eyed your neatly made bed and the empty shelves. You dropped to your knees and peered underneath the slim space of your mattress and found nothing out of the ordinary.</p><p>Trusting your gut you searched the space but still came up empty. As far as you could tell there wasn’t anything odd but just to be safe you shut the cell door and tried examining the room from different angles. Your fingers slid across the rough walls and over the fabric of the single chair, the seamless tiles were equally undisturbed. The drawers on the cheap wooden cabinet were still unopenable. </p><p>You went to bed uneasy and hoped you’d notice something with fresh eyes tomorrow.</p><p>The highblood was unwilling to talk as he ever was and you dumped the food in the corner of the room. You no longer felt guilty at this point. The only thing you regretted was how much food you were wasting. Part of you wanted to eat it in front of him but that was, perhaps, going a bit too far and your jaw was still too tender to chew properly anyway.</p><p>You had a vague feeling of how long you spent down here and near the end of it you stretched out and listened to your bones pop. “I heard you hadn’t spoken in ages.” His low snarl was your only reply. “Why is that? I know you have to be lonely down here. Was I really the only person to strike up a conversation?”</p><p>You didn’t think he’d answer. Enough time passed and you rolled the cart to the door, knowing the guard would be here soon. “You whined like a motherfucking <em> bitch </em>.”</p><p>You cracked a smile. “Even still. We could have been amicable.”</p><p>Somehow you drove him back into a fit. He thrashed against his chains and clawed at open air. You scowled at the volume and stepped out into the hallway and shut the door the second it parted.</p><p>Eating was difficult. You couldn’t part your jaw that much and after two bites you had to take a break and let your muscles relax. Your tongue felt far too heavy and you poked at the pile of mush tiredly, eating as much as you could handle and dumping the remainder in the trash.</p><p>Outside you stargazed and Marklo unceremoniously dropped down beside you eventually. He sat only a foot away this time. You decided to take initiative. “So, do you have anyone in your quadrants?”</p><p>“Straight to the point huh?” He shook his head, “Not really. I don’t really want to find someone in here.”</p><p>“That’s fair.” You didn’t know how relationships would last if one left and the other was still waiting out their sentence. Maybe if they’d never leave it would work out. You grimaced thinking of how you’d be here forever. </p><p>“You got your-“ he caught himself and you arched a brow.</p><p>“My eye on anyone? No one wants to be with the human. Especially not the horrible <em> Trollhunter </em>.” You wanted to tack on ‘alleged’ to your title but knew it didn’t matter. None of this mattered. No one believed you. The thoughts threatened to drag you down into hopelessness and back into despair. “It’s lonely. I…” you could see him lean in from the corner of your eye.</p><p>“No, I want to hear.”</p><p>That was a surprise. You rolled your head onto your shoulder and massaged the stiffness in your leg to do something with your idle hands. “I appreciate you being here.”</p><p>Marklo made a strangled sound and slammed a hand into the ground. “You can’t just say shit like that!” He grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest and then slapped them on the ground on either side of his hips. He mumbled to himself similar to the highblood downstairs but on a blessedly quieter scale. “You’re a son of a bitch.”</p><p>“You already called me that before.”</p><p>“Well I mean it.” His hushed whisper grew louder. “You’re playing with my thinkpan and you think I’ll fall for you but I won’t.” </p><p>“You mean fall for it?” You laughed and smiled, “It doesn’t make what I said any…” there was a dark green tint to his face and you barely stopped from reaching out. “Less true. Are you feeling all right?”</p><p>“I’m fine.” He grit out, going against what he said when he got to his feet and stormed away.</p><p>You went to bed and the feeling came back. Something was wrong with your room. You crawled on the floors and checked the tiles, you tugged at the shelves and dresser, fingernails tracing over marks made by the previous inhabitant. You patted down the bed and fluffed the pillows. This couldn’t just be paranoia. There had to be something here.</p><p>Twisting yourself into a comfortable position you noticed...you couldn’t. There was something off about the mattress. You didn’t fit into the divot of your usual position and pawed at the seams, the guards making their usual counts for the oncoming morning. Between the wall and your mattress you felt a small bit of fluff unlike the rest of the edges and pushed your fingers in. A rough tip pushed back against your skin and you quickly dug deeper, fueled by the fact you were right and you found whatever was going on. Your fingers curled and it took two tries but you managed to pinch the end and pull it free. You held the item valiantly and curled around your surprise:</p><p>A shiv. </p><p>You could have sworn you stopped breathing. The blade was about the length of your middle finger, the handle wrapped in tape and plastic. It was jagged but sharp, the tip dangerously pointed. </p><p>Why would they leave this here? They were giving you a weapon! How stupid…</p><p>You flicked it back and forth and debated on putting it back into the mattress or holding onto it. If you were caught with this-</p><p>You quickly stuffed it into the length of your cast when you heard footsteps approaching. It felt like some part of it cut your skin but you couldn’t get caught with this. That was probably the whole point of hiding it here. You stretched out onto your bed and frowned at the flashlight that beamed you in the face. The guard passed and mumbled another number on his way.</p><p>You held your hand over the shiv in your cast and stayed awake for most of the day, drifting off hours before you were set to wake up. </p><p>When you did you went to the office and requested the commissary list again, asking if you could buy some candy before you headed down to the highblood. They gave you four tiny pieces of chocolates - two milk, one dark and one with almonds - and had you sign the paper again. </p><p>You headed downstairs with your goods in a lighter mood, sucking on one of the tiny pieces happily. You succeeded in their attempt to screw you over. You earned this chocolate. Inside the cell the stench caught you off guard again and you tried to breath through your mouth to hold onto what little was stuck in your teeth. </p><p>The troll wasn’t growling this time like he usually had. “Tired of throwing a fit?” He snarled. “Listen, I think we both have had enough of this. All I want from you is an apology-“</p><p>The highblood howled in rage and you dumped the food into the corner of the room and dropped the knife off for good measure and a bit of chocolate should the day ever come that he said he was sorry.</p><p>You were in a good mood. Even when they jostled you the back of the line twice you had a piece of candy to share with Marklo when you saw him and one extra to save for later. You replaced the now vacant spot in the seam of your bed with one piece of chocolate as a surprise to the troll that put it there if they went looking for it again. You were pretty sure you weren’t afraid of the highblood anymore.</p><p>Life wasn’t great but it was starting to be all right.</p><p>After, you went outside and eagerly waited for your not-friends arrival. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he came over and stood a few feet away. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”</p><p>You whipped out your partially melted chocolate and grinned. “I brought a gift.”</p><p>His face fell. He stared at the chocolate and you wiggled it. “You...brought me candy?” His hands came out and plucked the bar in two fingers, his claws almost puncturing the plastic. </p><p>“It’s a thanks. It isn’t much but I guess you can’t buy a lot of things when you only make forty cents a day.” You patted the grass. “I have one of my own so we can eat them together.”</p><p>His face twisted. His brows went up and down, lips morphed into a smirk and then a grimace and wiggly line. He shuffled from one foot to the other. “I...have a few questions.”</p><p>The hesitancy in his voice made your heart clench. He stopped himself and thought about it, then settled about two feet away. “First…” was he insulted? Did he think it was poisoned? You didn’t really know what he wanted but chocolate was pretty popular. “I want to eat this. I bought it a few times but it was too small to be worth the price.” He twisted the candy around to read the name and tore the wrapper, shoving the whole thing into his mouth. He savored the chocolate and you hurried to catch up, chewing slowly to hold onto the sweet, familiar flavor. </p><p>He licked his lips with a greenish tongue when he finished and you wondered what else about him reflected his blood color. “You had more questions for me?”</p><p>“<em> Oh </em> .” His shoulders bunched up toward his neck and his face was the epitome of uncertainty. “You said you only made forty cents a day?” You nodded and told him how you did the math. “Trollhunter, we make fifty cents <em> an hour </em> . <em> Everyone here </em> makes money by the hour - not the day.”</p><p>They earned money like a regular job? Marklo made fifty cents an hour while you put effort into the things you did for forty-three measly cents? “That can’t be right.”</p><p>“Every day I make four dollars no matter what I do. I think the first month you work here you might earn twenty five but it’s still every hour. Are you sure you did your math correctly?”</p><p>Four dollars. It would take you nine days to make what he made in one. </p><p>You must have made a face because he shuffled to his knees and reached out to touch your shoulder. “I can come with you if you want to talk to the officers about it. Someone might be entering the numbers incorrectly or…”</p><p>It must have hit you two at the same time because his hand quickly withdrew. These people had been working here for years. They wouldn’t have made a mistake like that - not for this long. </p><p>“They’ve been stealing money from me.” You told him quietly. “I’ve been making forty-three cents a day for months.”</p><p>His brows furrowed and he came closer, hand hovering above your shoulder again. “They must have-“</p><p>“That’s why you were so surprised I didn’t have anything in my room.” The trinkets in the other cells made more sense now. The posters and books. The different smelling soaps and occasional bandanas. </p><p>“Trollhunter.” He crossed your personal space and you focused on him as a fog clouded your mind. “Now that we know we can try to get them to change it. I can go with you.”</p><p>“They won’t.” You dropped your gaze down to his mouth and saw his lips move but you couldn’t hear the words. “They hate me and they did this to spite me. They used my ignorance to their benefit.” He was speaking again. “When I got here they wouldn't answer my questions or explain anything. They just threatened me.”</p><p>As it turned out the fog messing with your emotions was a toxic gas and someone had lit a match. </p><p>Everyone was against you. </p><p>Everyone hated you. </p><p>And <em> you hated them </em>. </p><p>It crawled out from the confines of your chest like jagged nails of some vile creature. It flooded your lungs and narrowed your vision until a miniscule point of light barely allowed you to see. Your intestines churned and wound themselves into knots over and over again, your insides aching and squirming like a living thing. You didn’t feel comfortable in your skin and in that moment you didn’t feel like yourself. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you - it was almost dream-like. No. This was just a nightmare. A living nightmare and the theme was you versus them.</p><p>And they would tear you apart unless you tore them apart first.</p><p>You had to be what they wanted you to be. You had to be evil and cruel. You had to fight back even if you’d lose. You needed to do whatever you had to to keep them from harassing you like this.</p><p>You stood and stalked back to your cell ignoring Marklo’s shouts for you to come back. Upstairs you shoved a troll hurriedly backing out of your room out of the way and into the railing. She barked out something but one look had her shutting up. It felt good to see her scramble away at your quick approach to the cell doors. You slammed it shut with a deafening clang and pushed your back against the corner of the room on your bed.</p><p>Perhaps the troll downstairs was right. Survival of the fittest and all that.</p><p>Who cared about the outcome.</p><p>Not you. Not anymore.</p><p>Night came back and you weren’t even sure you slept. You didn’t feel tired. You wove past the other trolls coming out of their cells to wait for the first shift cooks to finish making the highblood’s meal. The guard on duty was surprised you made it to the elevators before he did but he kept from commenting on it.</p><p>A trip down and along the familiar hallway you threw open the door and stepped inside. The clinking chains made a noise before he did and you slung the cart into the wall beside you full force. You tried breaking the plates but they were made of sturdier material than you anticipated. The ringing of the plates barely made up for the satisfaction you were robbed of. You kicked the mounds of food and sent them hurtling into the walls where they dripped in chunks and oozed along the cracks. You slung the bowl into a large pile and watched it explode into every direction, getting onto your pants and shirt, more disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond.</p><p>You slammed your good foot into the cart over and over again to do something with the rage that had been festering since last night. You yanked up the handle of the cart and flung the whole thing into the wall and allowed the horrible sounds to scatter your thoughts. </p><p>You weren’t sure how long you spent throwing things around and howling at the top of your lungs but it was enough to leave your throat raw and body shaking. You were exhausted. Your skin tingled and your vision blurred. </p><p>The highblood moved and you checked to make sure you were safe enough away from him if he tried to grab you. Whether you were close enough or not, he merely took a seat and slowly blinked, unimpressed by your violent reactions.</p><p>Your head dropped to your chest and you stared at your numb hands as if you hadn’t seen them before. You just threw a fit in front of the king of tantrums. You screamed like a child and ranted about the injustice of it all as if any of it mattered.</p><p>Hot tears started dripping from your cheeks and a low sob escaped, “You failed to kill me and for some reason I’m the one paying the price.” </p><p>He didn’t say anything. You didn’t expect him to. You dragged yourself to the door and collapsed beside it, giving in and crying. It wasn’t pretty. You felt your nose run and you hiccuped, body shaking hard with every rough exhale. </p><p>You managed to stifle it all down again eventually. The guard would return and you were supposed to be strong in front of them. You were fearless and intimidating. You limped to the cart and tried finding all the plates but only found two, the bowl completely missing. </p><p>Judging from how soon the guard came to retrieve you, you had been ranting and crying for a long time.</p><p>You stopped by the bathroom to run water over your face and recompose yourself before you went to work counting inventory. The thought of working like this while everyone else made more money had you irate and you had to recount twice because you kept skipping over a few of the items.</p><p>Trolls cut you in line at the lunchroom but no one jostled you out of the way. You didn’t know what you would do if they touched you. You ate alone and didn’t bother going outside that night, instead staring at the wall in your cell until your busy mind turned blank and empty.</p><p>You didn’t expect the guards to throw open your cell and demand you to get up. It was dark out but the bell to rise hadn’t rung yet. </p><p>They caught you by surprise, half-asleep and panicked. When you didn’t manage to get up fast enough they picked you up from the bed and slammed you into the wall, their hands roaming over your body in rough pats. You woke up faster and blinked the sleep from your eyes. They demanded you shut up and spread your legs, a female troll checking between your thighs and under your breasts and arms, slipping her fingers around the sling of your arm. </p><p>They ripped apart your bedroom. The dresser was overturned and the chair held up and rotated, tossed aside roughly. They flashed a light underneath your bed and kicked the mattress on the floor. Two of them groped at the top and bottom and spoke in hushed whispers.</p><p>A crowd formed outside of your room and you wondered how you missed the morning bell. A few of the trolls looked smug but one in particular looked like the cat that got the cream. He smiled nastily and you recognized him as Maryon. His little crew snickered and craned their necks to get a better view.</p><p>“Found it.” You were still being held against the wall by two trolls and tried to see what they were doing. One of the human guards removed their fingers from the little hole made into the bed and froze at the little piece of chocolate he found.</p><p>He turned to you for answers and you frowned, blurting out the first thing you could think of. “I didn’t want someone to steal it so I hid it for later.”</p><p>He stood and sighed, “Destruction of prison property is an automatic pay dock for one week.”</p><p>One whole week. You scowled and the guards put most of the things they ruined back in their spots more or less. You were released and rubbed your shoulders as they left. Past their bodies you saw Maryon and his group lingering. They were talking amongst themselves and eventually the head troll shot a glance in your direction.</p><p>They had hoped for the worst case and you turned it on its head. They were waiting for a show and you denied them that pleasure. Euphoria bubbled. It was like submerging yourself in a warm bath after a long day. You bared all of your teeth in a grin and passed by them with a wink to go feed the highblood. You held onto your righteous high all the way down and thrummed your fingers against the handle of the cart in some beat you haven’t heard in years.</p><p>If the starvation was affecting him he didn’t let it show. You could still see his crimson eyes through the small space of the mask and the hint of teeth just below. You took the chance to cross over the safety threshold to put down a plate of some other alien food. “Here.”</p><p>You didn’t give him all of it. Just the one morsel and made it back to the door unharmed. He hadn’t stirred but he seemed to perk up a bit, curious.</p><p>“I’ve done some thinking.” This sounded like the start of a monologue by a cheesy villain. Is that what you were now? The antagonist of this story? Could you be your own mortal enemy? You pushed the thought aside and smirked. “You could have told on me. You could have called out to the guards and let them know what I’ve been doing but you haven’t.” You picked at your fingernails for a moment and nodded to yourself. “There’s a couple reasons, I think. It could be that you don’t actually need all this food and this isn’t actually hurting you.” You flipped up one finger and followed it up with a second. “You don’t want to tell the officers because it’ll make you look weak asking for help.” His eyes narrowed into glowing slits and you wiggled a third finger beside the other two. “Or, the guards have or haven’t noticed but don’t actually care if you starve here.”</p><p>You felt daring today. Your cockiness would eventually come back to bite you and there was a very real chance the highblood would get the opportunity to knock you down again. But for now?</p><p>He didn’t bother getting up to get the food and you sat in darkened silence for forty-five minutes. The door opened and you waited until the guard called out twice and stuck his head in. “Trollhunter! Where…” he waved you over but you gave him time for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a stiffness when he noticed the food and his nose wrinkled at the stench of everything rotten. You didn’t feel as cocky when he turned to you in shock. </p><p>This might have been a bad idea.</p><p>You grabbed the cart and pushed it over, jumping out of your skin when the guard began to <em> cackle </em>. He leaned against the doorframe and whooped, holding onto his belly. “All this time we were wondering how you kept feeding him and you haven’t been!” He threw his hands up. “We placed bets on what you could be doing!”</p><p>The satisfaction swept through you like syrup, thick and lingering and oh so very sweet. </p><p>“You’ll get a day of solitary confinement, though.” Eh, one day of punishment. He jerked his thumb toward the hallway and quietly whispered, “Just don’t do it so often.”</p><p>On the way out you wiggled your fingers in goodbye and his enraged roar was cut off with the slam of the door.</p><p>Life was good again.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It does get better I swear.<br/>(๑•́ㅿ•̀๑)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Discovery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You find out more about the prison you're trapped in and what exactly you'd done to end up here.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope y'all like world-building and bonding! I tried cutting this chapter down into smaller pieces but since I wrote it as one section originally I felt like it was read best like that.<br/>Brief mention of troll prejudice and past violence and dismemberment. GHB is still unstable and ominous as before.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Solitary confinement sucked. </p><p>You were put into a tiny room with the necessities - a toilet and a bed - and that was it. There were no pillows. No sheets. You flushed the toilet a few times if only to hear something beyond the silence but after a while it lost its charm.</p><p>You slept on and off to pass the time but without any windows to give you a hint of how long you’d been locked up you didn’t know how effective it was. The bed was uncomfortably cheap, made of what could have been mostly plastic it crinkled every time you shifted.</p><p>Practicing kicking and throwing punches was helpful. Your leg was getting stronger every day even if it did look a bit awkward outside of your pants from the muscle atrophy. It could either be a few weeks or a month or so if you kept working on it.</p><p>You had plenty of time to plan while being grounded and decided now was as good as any. You’d reignite their fear in you and aim to get back to the way things were when you first arrived. Pressing your luck to become top dog could backfire when they realized/remembered you were just a human compared to them. You couldn’t win in a fight still so posturing was your only option. They still believed you to be a serial killer so all you had to do was act like a brutish murderer.</p><p>Maybe taking notes from the highblood would be a good place to start. He was calm one moment and active the next, rude to everyone and hyper aggressive. You couldn’t be rude to the guards but the other inmates should be easy. A quick dip into the hatred you felt toward them and pushing back wouldn’t be hard.</p><p>You wished you had a mirror so you could make sure your facial expressions were correct. A curled upper lip, a narrowing of the eyes and a chuckle from low in your gut seemed like the right thing. It certainly felt silly doing it alone in a concrete box. Silly and psychotic. You blinked up to the camera in the corner of the room and tried going back to bed, remembering how the troll downstairs drew up his shoulders and filled up the room to add to his intimidation. Not that he needed to try that hard. He was <em> enormous </em>so that might be harder to pull off. You lacked the angry red eyes and claws. Or horns. Or teeth.</p><p>All you had was the shiv and your supposed history. Not that you could really use the shiv - that would get you into an insane amount of trouble. What if you ended up downstairs like the highblood? Getting trapped in the basement was the worst case scenario. Actually, <em> death </em>would probably be the worst case scenario. You rubbed your forehead to clear your scattered thoughts and took a breath to sort yourself out. Not even a full day in here and you were starting to lose it. </p><p>You had to intimidate the stronger inmates without real violence and without the shiv. It would be hard but you refused to act like a kicked dog forever.</p><p>The door opened and you shot out of bed, your legs carrying you to the scowling officer waiting for you to hold out your arms. After he strapped a pair of handcuffs around your wrists you were led out of the room into fresher air. A new thought occured to you as you were led through the lengthy winding paths in this section of the prison. This place wasn’t like anything you had seen before and although the tiling and lights were the same, the colors on the walls were different: a pale green instead of an ugly, sickly yellow. You hadn’t even known this part of the prison existed so how much more have you not yet seen?</p><p>There were extended doors and hallways here, doubled up with hip-height windows to let the occupants see whoever was approaching. What was in them? Who even came to this section? It was quieter here than you were used to and caught a glimpse of someone wearing a suit and tie entering one of the rooms before it shut. </p><p>During your walk in an awkwardly tall hallway, voices began to grow louder and you spun in a circle to peer back at where you came from. You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings when you first arrived - not that you really had the chance thanks to their aggressive shoving. Was this truly one of the hallways you passed through months ago? </p><p>“Pay attention.” You hurried to catch up and the guard nodded to the others behind a glass cage, the buzzers ringing as the gates slid open and locked as you passed through each one. The cell division was familiar - as was your view from this spot. There was a sea of wandering trolls going about their nights, dipping into each others cells or passing through guard protected doorways. Your isolation might not have been all bad. Beyond planning you were given a bit of time to really think about where you were and the people around you. You were pretty sure all of these cells had been filled but the number of occupants in this room was drastically smaller. Even if you counted the ones in the mess hall, the bathrooms, or courtyard - many more were unaccounted for. Were there more jobs to do? Other places to linger instead of in your cell or outside?</p><p>The guard unlatched your handcuffs and shooed you elsewhere, waiting until you were a bit away to talk to his coworker. Despite your empty stomach you headed for the courtyard to see if there were really that few trolls here. The clocks on the walls told you the mess hall would still be open until much later so you had time to waste.</p><p>The air was colder than usual outside and the sky flushed with white stars. You didn’t pause your stride when you passed by your usual spot and made it to the double linked fences that made up your enclosure. Past this one and a second fence barrier, you couldn’t make out much. It was far too dark but there was a distinct lack of trees to tell you this wasn’t the end of the facility and a black line against the grass suggested a pathway of maybe blacktop. Walking around the edge of the courtyard you could see rectangular lights on from the buildings in the darkness but little else. Another great open space was to the left of the entrance and while a few trolls snarled on your way through the workout area, no one stopped you.</p><p>Whatever was out there you wouldn’t know. Your eyesight was too weak at night and you couldn’t get out here in the day. You never really knew just how big the courtyard was until you walked the perimeter. </p><p>There had to be more to this prison than you knew. Back inside you ate your late dinner and halfway upstairs a voice called out. Several trolls stopped what they were doing to look and you spotted Marklo running in your direction, an arm raised to wave you down.</p><p>You waited on the stairs and he lingered on the first floor, coming to a stop just below you with his head craned back sharply. “There you are.” He held onto the balusters and wrung his hands back and forth over them. “Where did you go?”</p><p>“Solitary.” That earned a few murmurs. You slung your arms over the railing and leaned over. “Why?”</p><p>He sighed and hurried around toward the bottom of the stairs to come closer, easily taking steps by the two’s. “You disappeared not long after the cell check and I thought they found something.”</p><p>So he didn’t know? He wasn’t one of them in the crowd waiting for you to get into trouble for yet another thing you didn’t do? “They found my stash of chocolate.” The half-lie didn’t feel so bad but it left an odd sensation in your mouth when directed at Marklo. </p><p>“Strange that they’d give you solitary for that.”</p><p>You shrugged and continued up the stairs. The heavier footsteps let you know he was following along. “What else would have happened?”</p><p>“Pay dock I believe.” </p><p>“What if they did find something?” How badly would those trolls have doomed you if you didn’t catch it in time?</p><p>“It depends on what they found.” You took a seat on your bed and reached for the corner, finding it neatly sewn shut. He sat down at the other end and you pressed him to continue. “If it was something bad, we’d probably get solitary for a few days.”</p><p>“And if it was me?”</p><p>He thought about it. “You could get transferred to another prison. Word is the only reason you didn’t get sent there in the first place was because you mainly went for trolls and they thought this place was fitting.” That much was true at least. You didn’t remember much of their brisk explanation when you first arrived but that particular sentence stuck with you. “I don’t know for sure. Regardless.” He offered a light smile and you felt yourself relax a bit at the easy atmosphere. “Glad you’re back. No one else can keep an eye on you.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure everyone’s keeping an eye on me.” You refrained from adding: <em> And they should </em>but simply smiled to yourself at the thought. </p><p>“No - I mean - whatever.” He let out a chuff, “You might be satisfied to hear that when Ermusa went to feed the highblood he got attacked.” You tried thinking back on why that name sounded familiar. “Broke one of his arms free and went for him.” Marklo acted out the motion of drawing the front of his hand down his body. “Nearly gutted him.”</p><p>You shook your head at the mental image. He had hurt countless trolls and guards and as far as you could tell, they’d never actually punished him for it. Then again, what else could they do to someone bound and chained in a dark room underground? “If he’s so aggressive why bother keeping him? Why don’t they just give him the death sentence?”</p><p>He rolled his eyes. “It would be easier. No, nothing you humans have here can put him to sleep and keep him that way. You guys...you do a shot that makes you sleep forever, don’t you?” Lethal injection. “Yes, that. Well, hardly anyone could get close enough to give him the shot and when they did no matter how much they pumped into the bastard they couldn’t kill him. They tried electrocution but couldn’t attach enough rods or wires or however you do it.” He tucked one of his legs beneath his other and you felt a bit of pride at that. He was making himself comfortable and planned on sticking around for a bit. “Since our arrival is still pretty new they wanted to actually make a way of culling him instead of trying over and over again. You humans were worried it might look like they were just messing around or something. I don’t know the details. I was in prison when all of this was going around and friends with a human here who told me what was happening.”</p><p>“So they just dumped him in the basement?”</p><p>“I heard they were still figuring out how to off him since your ‘anti-troll’ weapons hadn’t really been perfected yet. It would have been considered an act of cruelty if they just kept shooting him and he didn’t die. Not that I would be opposed to letting the motherfucker suffer-” your memories slingshot you back underground with him and you cringed briefly. “But your activists won’t allow that. I would hope they would change their mind if they knew how bad this guy really was.”</p><p>How much would it take to kill the troll in the basement? You heard anti-troll weapons packed a harder punch but there was something special about them that made them hard to manufacture. When the trolls started appearing humans automatically labelled them as a threat and thought it was an invasion. It took a couple years before they managed to get on speaking terms and now there was still heavy prejudice but no where near the level as it was before. You were still a child when deals for peace and sharing resources came on the news and trolls were granted the ability to become citizens, granted a degree of rights like humans. The wheels of progress were in motion <em> decades </em>before you were even born. It took a while for them to even make it this far.</p><p>“It’s strange that they’re willing to let him stay here until they figure something out.”</p><p>“If you want my opinion, I think they’re hoping everyone forgets about him.” While it could have been a simple oversight on your part, you would have thought hearing about some unkillable troll would be harder for the public to forget. “I wish <em> we </em>could forget about him. Let him starve down there for all I care and rot in that room.” You did smile at that and Marklo noticed, baring his teeth in a grin. “Anyway, let’s talk about something nice.” </p><p>You’d much rather be here than over in solitary. Marklo told you a bit about the trolls he spent his time with and what he did today, namely what he did every day and you could hear the exasperation in his voice. You went back and forth about things to do other than think about how your lives could have gone differently. He read several books but didn’t have much of an interest in them. He enjoyed puzzles and watching tv, doing crosswords and playing card games. He mostly enjoyed creating little wooden sculptures and you had to stop him there and ask how he was able to do all of this. Where did he put the things he bought? How did he earn enough money to buy a television?</p><p>“We can do all of that in the rec room?” He drawled in confusion. Abruptly his brows un-scrunched and he nodded to himself. “Right. It’s you. Well, you probably won’t be able to get there for some time but there’s a library and a recreational room in another division of the prison.”</p><p>You hated this place. Unbelievable. They had things for you to do here and didn’t even tell you.</p><p>“It’s for lesser crime inmates and those on good behavior. I can try to check out a book or two from the library if you want. You’d only be able to read it when I’m around though, I think we’d get in trouble if they saw I let you borrow it.” He told you about leatherworking and embroidery, if someone outside of the prison was kind enough they would have volunteer workshops but it didn’t happen very often any more. There were plenty of options for inmates to do here depending on the severity of their crimes and more jobs to be done - but none were for you.</p><p>Marklo’s hand came out to swat your shoulder and he scooted off of the bed to stand and stretch. “I’m heading outside if you want to come along.”</p><p>You politely declined and watched him leave, a tiny smile on your lips at seeing him go. Another variable had entered the equation. Instead of turning aggressive you <em> could </em> try to settle the waters through Marklo and have others ease up on the bullying. Then again, you had no desire to befriend anyone here. Marklo was the only exception and you wouldn’t mind keeping it like that. You took a chance by trusting him this much but clearly he did the same since he accused you of trying to manipulate him for the longest time. His slow transformation into giving you a chance earned a spot as your one and only companion. After you shut your cell door to sleep you wondered for a bit on how to pay him back.</p><p> You couldn’t think of a way to show your appreciation other than by buying more snacks but your lack of funds and new punishment meant you wouldn’t be getting anything for a while longer. You woke up, made your bed and grabbed the cart for the troll downstairs. It was the same guard as last time and he chuckled a little but hadn’t said a word. There was probably more going on than you knew of but he didn’t say you had to stop starving him.</p><p>“Coming in here reminds me that I need to shower more.” You hissed out scathingly, parking the cart next to the door. The trolls’ breathing was alarmingly quiet and the lack of shining eyes in the darkness made you suspicious. You always had decent gut instincts and the fact you weren’t as on edge as you thought you <em> should be </em> put you somewhat at ease. “What were we talking about last time I was here?” You thought back and it came easily. It wasn’t as though you had many conversations. “The guards don’t care. That’s what it was.” Before that you scolded him for spurning his only chance for companionship. Now that you knew what you were dealing with you were glad you dodged the bullet. “I heard back on your homeworld you were in some kind of cult.”</p><p>Two dark lights popped off in the black and you heard the chains rattle when he moved. The hulking troll drew himself upright and made a thoughtful little noise that might have been a chirp but you could be wrong.</p><p>“I don’t know a lot about your world but it sounded like you deserve to be here.”</p><p>He drew himself closer and you were glad for the disgusting rotting food wall to mark the safe distance in the room like caution tape. “You’re here too motherfucker.”</p><p>He was talking again. You were expecting more of the silent treatment. “I’m being accused of a crime I didn’t commit. You killed because they had different colored blood than you. It didn’t matter if they did anything wrong or not.” His eyes rolled like you’d said something stupid. “Is that not what you did?”</p><p>“Lowbloods have their place at the bottom. I have my place at the motherfucking top and that’s all there is to it.” </p><p>You wanted to smack a plate of food off of the cart but stopped yourself. He was actually speaking to you instead of calling you names or snubbing your existence so you’d give him a chance. “What makes you so special?”</p><p>His bloodline, he told you. His strength and power. Marklo had mentioned something about how dangerous their society was but it was just how they lived. The strongest survived and usually the strongest were the highbloods. The trolls' words seemed to confirm that. There was a sickening pride in his voice as he told you how much he loved to paint the walls with their blood and as much as he tried to remake that lovely decor here it just wasn’t the same.</p><p>You did flip a plate at that. </p><p>“So why did you show up? If you wanted to just kill all of the others what was the problem if they lived here on earth? You wouldn’t have to see them again.”</p><p>He snarled low, voice getting louder with every word he spoke. “Motherfuckers don’t get to just <em> run away </em> to avoid their blasphemous destinies on some weak ass alien planet. If they get culled then they get culled. No one to blame but their-motherfucking-selves. I came here to let them know they’re not beyond their fates to die. No one’s beyond the reach of what is meant to be.”</p><p>You needed a moment to process the ominous nonsense. He seemed steadfast in his ways and you doubted there was anything you could do to change his mind, especially being of a different species. “What about humans?”</p><p>“You are just as worthless as they are.” The troll lowered his volume to a hushed tone as if he were telling you a secret. “Either the Condesce finds this cushy mudball and melts the planet or we tear through the portal and massacre all you motherfuckers.” His deep, slow laugh sent a chill down your spine and in the confines of the room it felt oppressing. “It’s only a matter of time.”</p><p>You didn’t have anything to say about that. You didn’t know who ‘the Condesce’ was but if he was talking about them they must have been someone important. You picked up a plate from the cart and stood as close as you dared along the sprawl of old food. You kept an eye on him and lowered the plate to the floor and pushed it as close as your nerves would allow. He didn’t lunge but the second you heard the jingle of the chains you bolted away with your heart in your throat.</p><p>He laughed obnoxiously loud and hard so you didn’t feel bad dumping the rest of the food out of spite nearby. The rest of the time passed in silence and you left with the guard not long after. </p><p>You worked on straightening the processed license plates for packaging and avoided getting struck by pure luck. Your fingers slipped when you overreached and during the frantic lunge you felt the wind of a wide palm fly by the back of your head and rustle your hair. You turned to see the troll continue as if nothing happened and sat straighter, taking in the curve of her horns and the greenish-blue between the stripes of her orange outfit. You went back to work and luckily the rest of your shift passed by smoothly. </p><p>In the lunchroom they were messing with you again. Whispering behind your back, crowding you towards the end of the line, testing your patience and daring you to fight back. You bit your tongue for now and carried your tray to a small open spot between two hostile groups. The moment your tray was set down, midway into sitting, someone scooped the front of your foot backwards with theirs. Your balance was thrown off and the resulting bang from how hard you slammed your good hand down onto the table to catch yourself caused most of the trolls around you to go quiet. </p><p>Rage bubbled up and you straightened, grabbing onto the edge of your tray and whirling around on the first troll you made eye contact with. Motion to your left alerted you to someone grabbing your arm - your own grasping their wrist not a split second later. The muscles in your bandaged forearm sparked a flash of pain but you wouldn’t go down so easily again.</p><p>Marklo dipped his head, “Easy.”</p><p>Was he in on this? Was he the one that tripped you? His other hand came up to loop around the back of your neck and you were certain he was about to do <em> something </em>. You found yourself hesitating. Marklo was your friend and you shouldn’t hurt him but…</p><p>His fingers rubbed at the back of your neck gently. “Forget about it. Just sit down.” His tone was light and coaxing. His forearm slipped out from your grasp and he pulled you down to the table to sit beside him. He kept one hand on your nape and gently massaged the tightly bound muscles. </p><p>For some reason you felt on edge - not just from nearly starting a fight but by whatever Marklo was doing now. It wasn’t a bad sensation by any means, it was quite wonderful actually, but he came out of nowhere and saw you gearing for a brawl. </p><p>You felt like you had the need to justify yourself. “I didn’t start it.”</p><p>“I know you didn’t.” He stared at his partially eaten tray and let his hand slide down to the middle of your back. It didn’t feel sexual but he never touched you this much before. </p><p>Were you being coddled? Babied by a giant troll man? You shook him off to hopefully rid yourself of the embarrassment as well and grabbed your little cardstock spork, scooping out a bean-ish mixture. Marklo went to work finishing his own plate and the trolls around you went back to their conversations. You ate quickly and ignored the lingering twinge in your jaw from overuse. Marklo stuck beside you even after he was finished and you hurriedly went back to your cell to avoid going outside.</p><p>To your dismay, he came with. In the safety of your cell you spun around and lowered your voice, “Why are you here?” He stood his ground when you stormed closer but your bravery faltered, meeting his tired, concerned stare. </p><p>He closed the distance instead and you backed up, knees hitting the edge of the bed and flopping down. Marklo cracked a weak smirk before he sat beside you in one smooth motion. “You looked like you could use the company.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to do that.” He really didn’t. He had standing here, friends, if he associated himself with you he could lose them. “I…” The only one you even cared about in this whole place was Marklo. What if they started messing with him? He could certainly handle himself better than you could but against an entire prison? </p><p>He moved until his back was flush with the wall and shrugged. “I’ve been watching you, you know. Not like everyone.” He scanned you slowly from your head down to your neck, lingering over your arms and hands. Back up to your face he thinned his lips and they tilted downward at the corners, “Back then, when you told me you hadn’t killed anyone and you didn’t want to fight you were so...desperate. You wanted me to believe you were innocent but we both know I’ll never believe that.” The matter-of-fact confession brought a dull pain in your gut. He scooted closer until your legs were brushing and grumbled. “The farthest I’ll go is to believe you regret it now. You’ve been to yourself and quiet. You don’t cause problems. I can see you trying to be good.”</p><p>You couldn’t hold his stare and lowered it to his mouth. He still thought you were willing to be a punching bag. You had a knife, the beginnings of a plan, and the temperament to act on it. “I don’t think I want to be good anymore.”</p><p>He snorted. “After everything I wouldn’t blame you. But that’s why I’m here to help. You’re not the same person I saw in the courtroom ranting about integration. You’re...just some wimpy little human that spends their money on cheap chocolate to share with their friend.” His shoulder bumped into yours and you bobbed, unprepared for the gentle blow. “You got me, Trollhunter. I’m giving into your stupid trap like the idiot I am.” </p><p>Was this a confession? You weren’t sure you thought of Marklo romantically. He did just call you his friend though and you’d much rather focus on that. “We’re friends now?”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><p>You felt like a kid again. Stumbling around asking others if they’d want to be friends so you’d have someone to play with. The euphoria that gushed about in your body was embarrassingly warm and comforting. “Your friends might not like that.”</p><p>“They’ll get over it.” Marklo let a short silence waft between the two of you and you couldn't think of anything to say. Would this be a new thing you’d have to account for in your plan? If Marklo was there to make sure you didn’t start anything, how would you get any respect? </p><p>Your brain helpfully provided a new topic and you latched onto it to keep from thinking about how silly you felt from gaining a friend. “How did you know what I was saying in court?”</p><p>He lost a bit of his casual attitude from the question but easily replied, “It was on the news.”</p><p>You gawked. “I’m sorry, I was on the <em> news </em> ? They were <em> broadcasting </em>my case?”</p><p>Marklo spluttered and threw up his hands. “You killed like, a hundred trolls and left their body parts strewn about like some subjuggulator! The fact you were finally caught made it on the news, yeah! It was a big deal.” You had notoriety. How many people watched your case and knew your face? “If we were back on Alternia it wouldn’t have mattered as much but here we were trying to get away from that. You brought that here and you didn’t even come from our world.”</p><p>You couldn’t believe it. What if you were the next infamous serial killer? They already called you <em> Trollhunter, </em> not even your actual name. Marklo made another disgruntled noise beside you. “So what do you remember since all your <em> years of murder </em> were a blur?” He sounded doubtful.</p><p>“I was driving somewhere with someone and then I was at that hotel with all of the bodies. I- wait -” Years of murder. You had forgotten he said you terrorized trolls for that long but you’d hoped it was an exaggeration. You snapped your mouth shut and opened it. “Years?”</p><p>“You hunted us for over two years, Trollhunter.”</p><p>There was no way you lost two years of your life to a blackout. Blackouts didn’t work like that. “No. That can’t be right.” You asked him what the date was and hearing your answer differ from his by almost<em> three </em>years felt unreal. People didn’t just slip into a coma and go on a murderous rampage. “Three years?” What had you missed? What changes happened to the world around you while you were gone? </p><p>Your attention shot down to the gaudy tattoos on your arms and hands. You didn’t have these when you were driving. You didn’t really have enough time to focus on your physical changes when you were struggling to come to terms with the fact you’d be spending the rest of your life in prison.</p><p>You had grown thinner and stronger, muscles underneath the skin from working out for a good while. Your fingers were calloused and the scars long since faded. You had seen more evidence of the sordid lifestyle when you showered but you didn’t look at yourself then either - you were too worried about getting jumped.</p><p>Maybe you should have.</p><p>Your hair had been cut - choppily - and the ends somewhat tangled and all over the place. You’d been keeping it clean with the prison issued shampoo but how did it look once you brushed it out with your fingers and it dried?</p><p>“Trollhunter?” You jumped at his voice but the thoughts on your body still lingered. “What are you thinking about?”</p><p>Could you tell him? He would take everything you said with a grain of salt but he hadn’t left even when you brought up your murdering history. “I’m thinking about everything I missed out on.” Families and friends birthdays - family and friends that no doubt abandoned you when they figured out what you’d done. Movies. Television. Technology. You showed him your hands and he held them underneath, frowning down at your tattoos curiously. “My last memory was before I got these. I would have picked something more artistic than weird tribal tats and bones. Especially not on my hands. This will start to fade in a year or so.” Either these were decently new or you had someone to retouch them whenever they faded. </p><p>His thumb rubbed over the ink and then up toward your sleeve to tug it out of the way for a view of your good shoulder. “You’re saying you don’t know when you got these?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have gotten them.” You craned your neck to look and saw the markings disappear into darkness. “This might be a weird question but can you look at my back and see how far it goes down? I don’t want to strip in the bathroom. The only mirrors are outside of the stalls and…” He nodded and the two of you squirmed to get into an easier position. You peeled up the back of your shirt with one hand - not without difficulty - and held it bunched up at your nape, struggling to peek even though you couldn’t twist your neck that far back. The initial ‘oof’ Marklo made had you groaning. “Tell me what you see?”</p><p>“It looks like a whole lot of nothing.” Well that didn’t explain anything. You urged him to describe it. “There’s different colors but most of it looks like they overlap. Maybe some human symbols or something? The scars don’t help.” You reached back to rub and felt slightly upraised lines mostly crossing up and down or diagonally in straight lines. They didn’t feel too rough. </p><p>“Does it look like abstract flowers? Are they lines?” You really didn’t want to show off your back tattoos in the bathroom but curiosity was starting to get to you. It could be floral or art deco. </p><p>He made a long, drawled out ‘uh’ and patted your back. “I think there’s teeth?”</p><p>You threw the back of your shirt down and twisted on your side, “How big is it?”</p><p>“It covers your entire back and down into your pants.” If you had an ass tattoo you swear you would lose it. You don’t think you saw any on your legs though and your chest had a line and sets of squiggles that looked a bit too organized to be more scars. </p><p>You didn’t even know if they made you look cool. You weren’t a fan of the ones you could see so you couldn’t imagine feeling any better about the ones you couldn’t. You shook your head and held up your hands, “Back on track. I don’t remember the past two years, I guess, because last I recall I was never a murderer. I had to have gotten these during that time.” You wanted to touch him but you didn’t know what his boundaries were yet. You settled for putting your hand down between the two of you to briefly brush the side of his knee. He was open right now, he humored your questions and you decided to press for more answers. “Do you think if I asked they would let me see the footage? If I can get on a computer I should be able to find out more.”</p><p>He narrowed an eye and curled his lip. “The rec room is for privileged inmates and to use the computer in the library you have to have special permission by one of the head officers.”</p><p>Oh, there was no way you were getting near it then.</p><p>Marklo grinned, “Luckily, I have permission to use the computers and rec room as I see fit.” He stood and took a few steps toward the cell doors. “I don’t think they’ll let me use it now but I can ask tomorrow. If I figure out how to use the paper machine I can bring the internet to you.”</p><p>A smile escaped. “You mean the printer?”</p><p>“Whatever.” He gestured down the walkway outside of your cell and ignored the trolls that passed by. “I’m heading outside if you’d like to come.”</p><p>You hadn’t seen the stars in a few days. If you remembered you could ask him what he saw beyond the fences since he had better eyes than yours. “Not tonight.”</p><p>“Suit yourself.” He dipped his head in goodbye and disappeared.</p><p>Once you were left alone you had the misfortune of getting lost in thought. You went from no knowledge to several bits and if Marklo was successful you’d have a whole slew more to piece apart. There might even be videos of yourself somewhere online. What would you have to do to see them for yourself? How would it feel seeing a past you that you didn’t remember defending your actions before a judge?</p><p>You couldn’t imagine trying to justify your murderous rampage cool and collected. You were probably psychotic, foaming at the mouth and screaming. They had you thoroughly cuffed in the courtroom from what you did remember. They kept the chains on up until you made it here and they just let you go. Whether it was simply policy or they were giving you a fighting chance should any of the trolls come after you - you weren’t sure. Maybe they’d have sent you in here bound up if there weren’t some rules in place. It was only a little uncommon for criminals to get killed in jail depending on the severity of their crimes. </p><p>You curled up in bed and shut your eyes when you felt a headache coming on. You had an uneasy sleep.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The highblood was in some sort of mood when you went down there the next night. He was fairly active and you let him aimlessly shuffle for a bit, clapping your hands over your ears when he bellowed for seemingly no reason. “You all right there?” He didn’t stop his low muttering and the chains rattled ominously. “Hey. Highblood?”</p><p>He whipped around toward you and in what was a truly frightening way, got on all four from his hunched staggering to crawl directly for you. Your legs moved on autopilot, bringing you back to the door to get as far away from him as possible. At the very end of his chains he paused and drew in loud, rasping breaths.</p><p>You were almost too afraid to speak again. “What’s wrong with you?” Almost. He spoke in his guttural, alien language and his head cocked to the side ever so slightly. “I...don’t understand you.”</p><p>His attention whipped to the side like he noticed something you didn’t and he spoke to himself again. This went on for a bit and you decided maybe you’d spent enough time giving him small bits of food if he was going to lose his mind like this. Maybe he was hungry and delirious. “I’m going to come closer to give you some food but I need you to back up.”</p><p>His stare froze you to the spot. “If I have to speak to you in your beast-shit language the least you could do is answer me in mine.”</p><p>Before you could ask him what he was talking about he was pacing again, crawling back towards the corner of the room to whisper something ominous into the shadows. You took the moment to skip forward and drop two plates before the rustle of his clothing spooked you back to the door. He ate mindlessly and snarled in between bites, chanting a low droning mantra that was indecipherable.</p><p>When the guard came you were glad to be out of there and back upstairs. Inventory was mainly restocking and while other inmates were allowed to hop onto the trucks to carry out crates to put on pallets, you weren’t allowed near them. There were two doors cracked open that lead to the outside but even so you were still within the great brick walls that surrounded the entire prison. </p><p>You ripped open the tape with your bare hand and counted as you went, scribbling down the numbers on the whiteboard beside each bin. Your handwriting was getting better at least. You broke down the boxes and chucked them into a massive plastic dumpster for recycling and when a bit of the cardboard sliced open your finger you promptly pulled it into your mouth and scowled. </p><p>Lunch didn’t fare much better. While no one bothered you, Marklo was absent <em> and </em> you ended up getting the oldest parts of the food that remained. The edges were crusty and soup coagulated into some putrid chunks. The highblood had better food than you did right now and you ate what you could. You were about to go outside but it felt...odd going without Marklo. You denied him so many times and only when you were alone did you want to? You decided to look for him and spotted him coming through a set of double doors on the bottom floor almost forty minutes later.</p><p>“Trollhunter!” He had a few pieces of paper in his hands and you weren’t fast enough to sneak a peek down the hallway he came from before the doors shut. He pointed upstairs and grinned, “Let’s go back to your room.”</p><p>In the comfort of your cell you accepted the sheets and started reading. The paper was black and white and it looked like he printed them straight from the websites themselves judging by the url at the top and the ads on the sides. He rearranged the pages and pointed, “They think this was your first attack.” </p><p>Somewhere down in the south a group of four had been killed in their homes brutally, their necks slashed open and limbs pulverized. You felt a wash of sickness overtake you as you read that the neighbors heard noises at night but didn’t think much of it because the trolls were usually rambunctious as it was. There was only a set of bloody footprints leaving the house that gave police the indication that this wasn’t just an attack amongst each other but the involvement of a fifth person.</p><p>“They doubted there was even a murderer?” You scoffed, “Do you guys just go around killing each other back home?”</p><p>“Kind of. Not really, unless you’re a highblood but you humans know we can get aggressive. We play rough.”</p><p>So it was just prejudice that kept the neighbors from calling anyone? You wanted to know what Marklo had to say but pushed it aside. The truth to your past was right here. A second instance occurred a few hours away from the first involving three more trolls. Much like the first, their throats were cut and their arms crushed. A trail of bloody footprints leading from the house confirmed there was a different attacker but they were unable to find any more clues. </p><p>A third attack, this time two trolls and two human roommates. The humans were killed by a blunt force to their heads and their bodies intact, the trolls suffered a worse fate, one missing their legs and eyes, the other mutilated in a way the papers refused to describe. </p><p>The more you read the worse it became, only one more human getting injured and managing to escape. The killer was gone by the time the police arrived and this was around the time they called the murderer Trollhunter. Those investigating the cases believed the killer had a personal vendetta against the new species but their motives unknown. If a human was in the area or household they’d be ignored entirely. Two people were investigated for the deaths of their troll roommate as well, one dating the victim, but they were cleared when they compared their deaths to the past homicides. For the longest time they dubbed the Trollhunter as another troll since the reports coming from the human survivors suggested there were horns on their head.</p><p>The Trollhunter caused a large enough fear among the species that had them teaming up, a broadcast for them not to wander off alone. </p><p>The deaths continued with no rhyme or reason until one dated almost a full year ago was the biggest yet. A total of twelve trolls were slaughtered in a hotel lobby with a chainsaw and anti-troll weaponry. You knew this one. You had nightmares of it. </p><p>The Trollhunter had finally been caught. The troll horns discovered to be a costume on the helmet they wore, their body marked up with foreign symbols and tattoos, utterly saturated in the blood of the trolls they killed as if it were artistic in design. The killer was captured and taken in with little struggle, sentenced to eighty-seven life sentences.</p><p>You.</p><p>You set the pages down in your lap but stared at the little black letters. Marklo was gone and you were left utterly alone. You haunted these trolls - tormented them and hunted them - for what reason? How could you have even killed so many without getting killed yourself? True, the scars proved you weren’t perfect, but they were so much more powerful. You destroyed friends and families. You ruined hopeful futures and new beginnings. How many more would you have slaughtered if you weren’t stopped?</p><p>Marklo’s footsteps warned you of your company and you found your eyes burning when you blinked. How long had you been staring at the pages?</p><p>“Hey, none of that.” He crowded your space and clambered beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders to tug you into his side. “It’s fucked up though, isn’t it?”</p><p>You shook your head and felt like you didn’t deserve his comfort. “I ruined so many relationships. I killed so many people…”</p><p>“You did.”</p><p>You clutched your shirt and shook your head. “I couldn’t have.” You glanced up to the cell door and grabbed his arm, feeling desperate to know and daring to make yourself vulnerable. It would be stupid if Marklo decided to use it against you but it would be one trolls word against what everyone knew to be facts. “Fight me.”</p><p>He stiffened. “W-what?”</p><p>You made sure no one was passing by and pushed him off, hand coming up to grapple, your bandaged arm twinging in pain as you tried to flex it. “Fight me. Right now.”</p><p>Uncertainty had him going quiet. “Listen if I overstepped-“</p><p>“You didn’t.” You wanted to be touched forever but you needed to know. You lowered your voice to a harsh whisper. “You guys are stronger and faster than humans. I couldn’t have overpowered any of you.” You shoved his chest and patted your own, “I want to see for myself.”</p><p>He made a curt whine and drew himself up with a sharp inhale. Would he not? You wouldn’t fear this with anyone else. If he refused it would just be a thought that kept you up at night. “Fine.”</p><p>You didn’t expect him to be so fast. You knew he would be quick but nearly instantly this felt like a losing battle. His hands were rough and his claws dug into your forearms to shove you back against the mattress. You fought to shove him off but his greater weight and muscles had him barely moving. He gave you a chance to fight but you could hardly move your arm. “You can’t ask me to tussle and then not tussle.”</p><p>“I’m trying.” You felt your back strain and elbows burn from effort but finally managed to push him back a few inches, clawless fingers splayed over his warm chest. You almost felt proud.</p><p>His hands knocked yours away and one arm dropped against your throat to keep you pinned back, the other holding onto your wrist. “Come on.”</p><p>You wiggled and thrashed, only slightly panicked from nearly having your throat crushed. With a harsh curl you managed to disrupt his balance and a kick had the two of you falling from the bed and onto the floor. He made a soft ‘oof’ and you went for his arms to pin him down. He smacked your hands away and went for your neck and you ducked your chin to bit his hand gently.</p><p>His doubt faded and he laughed, yanking you down to wrestle, easily gaining the upper hand. In no time at all you were pinned and your face pressed against the cold floor. “Are you seriously trying?”</p><p>You were. Also, you were a little tired. Your hand went back to pinch his side but he barked out a laugh and recoiled. Was...he ticklish? You went for it again and he tried getting away, earlier advantage failing. </p><p>You dug your fingers into his side and ignored the hard hits to your shoulders and body as he tried to fight you off, laughter getting higher pitched with every wiggle of your fingers. You sat tall above him on his chest and grinned, finally relenting when a few trolls stopped by to investigate. </p><p>“You…” he tried catching his breath and pushed you away, “what was that?”</p><p>You turned from the audience outside your cell and remembered why you even did this. “There’s no way I could have killed those trolls. I can’t even overpower you.”</p><p>“You could just be holding back and faking weakness.” It was nice to hear how quietly he spoke. You shook your head and put a hand over your chest, feeling your quick heartbeat. You didn’t expect his hand to slip under yours. His palm was over your ribcage and his eyes seemed to sparkle. “That’s so fast what the hell.”</p><p>“We can try arm wrestling but it’s going to end the same.” You stood and offered a hand to help him up. “I couldn’t win in a mock fight against you. How could I have done it against twelve?” Marklo sat upright and you could practically see the argument he was having with himself. You couldn’t figure out how to explain why you were wearing the helmet or how you ended up at the hotel but you might come up with something eventually.</p><p>His hand came out and you grasped it, ready to hoist him up. “I told you I won’t-“</p><p>You were yanked down when he tried to stand. Your knees struck the floor <em> hard </em> and you groaned, rolling on your side to cup your recently healed leg. It was still so sensitive. You let yourself lie there and squeezed your eyes shut. </p><p>“You fucking wimp.” Marklo was giggling again and you sneered, rubbing at the skin over the bone. </p><p>Your hand came out to pop him in the arm and you squinted to the cell doors. The trolls there jumped when you spotted them and hurried away. “I wasn’t expecting you to weigh so much you fat-“</p><p>“Fat!” He lunged and you shrieked when the world flipped upside down and your legs were in the air, body curled in a fireman's hold. You clawed at his shoulders while he held you and your heart leapt into your throat. “Could a fat person do this?”</p><p>“I almost threw up…” you had your arms around him and peered over his head to the floor. You were so tall like this. His hair smelled like the prison shampoo and you got a close view of his brightly colored horns, the roots masked by thick locks of hair. Every troll here had a different set and some had asymmetrical ones. You wondered how heavy they were. </p><p>The camaraderie was nice. He was being kind when he didn’t have to. You wondered what caused the change despite his words of seeing how hard you tried. He was being almost too kind but you didn’t want to let go of this feeling. Even if this was a trick or some sort of ploy to lower your guard, this was what you had missed. Friendship. Contact. Talking.</p><p>You shoved the doubt and worry aside to deal with another time and smiled. “Can I touch your horns?”</p><p>“What? No.” He dropped his hands and luckily you had a strong grip on him or you would have fallen. You twisted your body and hated the dull aches that went through your chest. Only when the tips of your shoes brushed against the floor did you finally let go. “That’s weird.” It wasn’t weird. It was just a question. He crossed his arms, “If you beat me then I’ll let you touch them.”</p><p>That was hardly fair. You grumbled but agreed. Maybe you could outsmart him someday. Heading back to rest on top of your bed you asked him, “Where did you go earlier anyway?”</p><p>“To get some food. You stopped answering me when I called for you so I went on without you.” He remained standing and you got the feeling he would leave again. “Have you eaten?” You nodded. “Good. I noticed you didn’t finish your plate a few days ago.”</p><p>As you expected, he left after that with a short goodbye and you read over the papers again to see if you’d missed anything important. The reports he printed didn’t cover every event so there was a very real chance there was more you didn’t know. You folded the sheets and left them on your shelf after the guards locked your cell for the night.</p><p>You dreamt of faceless trolls begging for mercy while you struck them down and woke up several times during the day.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>You knew you looked haggard but no one called you out on it. You hadn’t visited the showers in a while and knew you’d have to soon - especially with the nightmares leaving you in a sticky sweat from fear.</p><p>You wheeled the cart closer to the highblood when you headed downstairs and managed to put down almost all of the plates before his movement scared you.</p><p>“Usually,” the troll drawled in his thunderous voice as he started to eat, “you start with some audial shit before you decide to place my motherfucking grub on the fucking floor.”</p><p>You were too tired to argue with him. You wondered if this was actually an attempt to get you talking instead of something rhetorical. You thought about biting back with something equally snippy but decided on a tired confession, “I found out about the people I killed.”</p><p>“Oh? You’re not actually a spineless-“ he said something that definitely wasn’t english at that point and stopped talking. You didn’t bother telling him you had no idea what he just called you.</p><p>“Well, <em> I’m </em> not the one that actually killed them. Not really. I was framed by someone who really hated trolls.” You plopped back down against the floor near the cart and shut your eyes. “They died terrible deaths and it kept me up at night.”</p><p>He laughed and chattered in his own language for a moment before switching to something you could understand. “Tell me.”</p><p>You squinted suspiciously. “Why? Does that get you off?” He made a curious sound and you rolled your eyes, whatever. “Most of it was breaking their limbs and cutting their throats.”</p><p>“How many?”</p><p>Awfully chatty when it came to death, wasn’t he? “Too many.”</p><p>He didn’t pipe up after that and the guard took you back up as usual. Instead of heading toward your assigned Purpose he led you to the infirmary for some good news.</p><p>In a week or so you’d be able to take your cast off. You’d need to start working out again to rebuild all the muscle that atrophied, much like your leg. Well, being sent to solitary helped your reputation a bit but you weren’t so brazen as to head into the training area to work out. Not unless Marklo was with you and even then what would they say if they saw you lifting ten or twenty pound weights while they easily tacked on a hundred? No, you’d need to work out in your cell where you couldn’t be seen or downstairs where the only one to judge you was the troll that put you into this mess.</p><p>At least the highblood already judged you. It wasn’t like he could cut you down anymore than you already were.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*poorly played successful ending friendsim sounds*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Insight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You find out there's communal showers and it doesn't end nearly as bad as you thought. Additionally, you do something about the highblood if only for Marklo's sake.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I have a ton of chapters pre-written and I just clean them up a bit before posting. I finally found the time to fix this one and remembered I got a comment saying how much they loved Marklo and I just wanted to say I had this chapter written waaay back when and I'm so sorry I lead you on<br/>pls forgive me iluヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞ</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The news broadcast your face, age, name, and general information but apparently you wearing your murdering garb was more popular. The outfit was nearly entirely black but smeared with different bloodstains, your helmet like a modified bikers, long gnarled horns welded to the sides. A frightening grin was scratched on the front like a bestial skeleton’s and your gloves had pointed metal caps perfect for clawing and scratching. You looked fanatic - psychotic and heavily inspired by trollkind. The outfit was confiscated when you were captured and there was a picture of you during the hearing with your eyes shut but mid-word.</p>
<p>“Don’t know what else you’re hoping to find out.” Marklo said casually, eating lunch beside you when you brought it up again. </p>
<p>You took a bite of some bread-like foam and shook your head, “I’m hoping to find some clues.” Maybe there was something everyone overlooked, some connection that would point you in the direction of the real killer. Marklo’s doubt was thick as he questioned your skill over that of actual professionals and you ate your food in bitter silence. </p>
<p>One of the few good things to come from this was that Marklo was sticking around. He ate lunch with you if his Purpose allowed him the time and on rare days handed off pages of your wrongdoings for you to flip through. You went back to going outside with him and after about an hour or so he would leave to hang out with his friends. They hated you, probably more so than before since you took their friend but they didn’t take it out on him. Luckily they didn’t take it out on you either besides some sneers and bitter muttering.</p>
<p>Marklo told you pretty much everything he knew about the murders and helped brainstorm incentives. You kept notes and the printed pages organized underneath your bed. It was a poor hiding spot but you doubted having written evidence of your murders on display would go well with the other inmates.</p>
<p>The time came for your arm to be freed and you couldn’t be happier. You’d need to work on it, given verbal instructions on how to get your strength back and what to be careful of. You took them to heart and trained downstairs, stretching and throwing slow punches since you lacked any weights. The highblood goaded you several times and talking with him was on and off. Mostly he told you how worthless you were and how you were doing a poor job of training, telling you your posture was wrong and when it came down to it you’d still lose every fight you got into.</p>
<p>He made a single comment about the jagged scar on your arm where the bone tore through the flesh and you held off on feeding him for nearly a week until you found mercy again. It was nice how quickly he learned if he kept his mouth shut you were willing to feed him. Sometimes he had the audacity to wait until after you fed him before mouthing off. You even took to hurling food at him at one point but he managed to get good at catching it in the hole of the helmet. </p>
<p>Between surviving your encounters with the highblood, figuring out your past and trying to make sure you stayed on Marklo’s good side so he wouldn’t abandon you, there were too many things you’d have to take into account. All you wanted to do was rest and ignore everything. </p>
<p>“You all right?” Marklo’s hand played with the ends of your hair and went to work wringing out the tangles in the comfort of your cell, your cheek smushed against his thigh and one of your arms dangling over the side of your bed. “You haven’t showered in a bit.”</p>
<p>You groaned and tucked your face into his stomach. “I showered not too long ago.”</p>
<p>“You reek whenever you come back from Feeding.” He leaned down and sniffed audibly, gagging for theatrics. “You’re the only one they send down there anymore.”</p>
<p>You didn’t know if you should come clean. You told him you didn’t want to hurt anyone and luckily, none of the trolls tested you as they had before. They stopped antagonizing you - even if they still cut you in line and snarled whenever you passed. They were much more willing to call you foul names and crowd your space but no one had attacked you again. You didn’t know if Marklo had a hand in it or if it was because your trip to solitary had them backing up. What would he think of you starving the troll downstairs?</p>
<p>“Come on.” He nudged you away and got to his feet, “Let’s hit the showers.”</p>
<p>You sat upright and frowned up at him. “Together?” He scoffed and offered a hand, all but yanking you off of your mattress and leading the way downstairs. Past the officer’s overhang where you picked up your towel and bathroom essentials, down a short but wide hallway, you came to a stop in front of the concrete archway of the showers. The room for the toilets were behind you and you could hear trolls talking from down the hall. He waved a hand and you hesitantly followed, searching for any signs or indicators that this was all right. “Uh...I don’t know if this is allowed?”</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t it be?” You had been pointed to the left path whenever you first came here so you assumed it was for women. Heading down the right path set you on edge. It looked just like the other side but there were larger stalls and bigger drains, the number of showerheads toward the back at least ten more than the left side. </p>
<p>“Are they not segregated by sex?” You saw a couple of trolls in the back lathered up and spotted a bustier troll among them. “I thought the left side was for women and the right side for men.”</p>
<p>“It might have been at one point but not now. It could just be a human thing.” He slung off his shirt and you saw there was a slight bit of pudge around his waist but he was still healthy and fit. There were dark green...somethings on his torso. They were curled against his skin like a larger set of external ribs, four in total, two on either side. “We all have the same parts unlike you people.”</p>
<p>That drew your attention away from the markings. “Excuse me?” You had heard something about their...well, genitals, but never actually looked it up on the internet. You knew they reproduced differently than you had but there was something about adaptation and experimentation in the works. You decided you’d check it out if you ever dated a troll but for now kept your mind free of learning what was probably not meant for you to know.</p>
<p>Marklo approached far too quickly for your comfort and grabbed the bottom of your shirt. “Off. You need a shower.”</p>
<p>You smacked his hands away and distanced yourself. “You know what else is a human thing? Showering alone. We only every shower by ourselves unless we’re with a partner. Or unless we have children that are too little to do it themselves and last I checked I’m a grown-ass adult.”</p>
<p>He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward again. You readied yourself to fight him off if he touched your clothing and he seemed to realize this. He gestured between the two of you with a flap of his hand, “Okay well, that’s fine because <em> we’re partners </em>.”</p>
<p>Were you? You ate together and stargazed. You did what might be considered cuddling but you never kissed. Or talked about your feelings. Actually you talked a lot about your feelings. “Are...we?”</p>
<p>He flinched as if you had said something scathing and grit his teeth. “I would say so. We’ve been having feels jams for a while now. I’ve kept you from fighting the next troll that looks at you wrong. You’ve listened to me rant about work and that bitch in the rec room that keeps stealing the remote to watch those stupid dramas.”</p>
<p>You swallowed down the lump in your throat. It wouldn’t do you any good to fake your feelings for him. You’d have to see him every day and faking loving him would get tiring fast. Maybe you hadn’t been clear on your end that you weren’t looking for a datemate here. You hissed through your teeth and lowered your gaze. When you told him the truth before he didn’t abandon you. There was a chance he wouldn’t leave you for it now. “I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for you.”</p>
<p>He didn’t move. Even worse he didn’t speak and you forced yourself to look up to try and read his expression. </p>
<p>It wasn’t hard to make out the disgusted confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?” He held his hand to his head and bared his teeth, “I would hope you aren’t flushed for me that would make this awkward.” He dipped his head and his eyes scanned over your features. After a moment he thumped his forehead and groaned, “You forgot what I told you about troll relationships, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>To be on the safe side, you agreed. “I know there are four and one is when you love someone and another is when you hate them but still want to have sex with them.”</p>
<p>“And another is <em> moirallegiance </em>.” He stressed, crowding your personal space again. “It’s a pale emotion that keeps their partner grounded. You keep an eye on each other and make sure they have the emotional support they need to function so they aren’t a danger to themselves or others. I am not flushed for you. I’m pale for you and I should have known better than to assume you’d catch on.” </p>
<p>You let it sink in. To him, whatever friendship this was had blossomed into some kind of weird troll romance that was purely platonic. Suddenly finding out you were pulled into this quadrant relationship-thing left you with doubt. You didn’t know if you were even doing it right. “Am...I doing okay?”</p>
<p>His confusion faded and he grinned, eyes glimmering with humor. You didn’t know what was so funny about this. You barely had any idea what was going on. “You’re all right. If you have any more questions just ask. We can learn as we go.” He plucked the front of your shirt and set his hands on his hips. “So to settle your nerves, no, I don’t want to have sex with you. All I want is for us to shower together.”</p>
<p>Even if you just told him humans primarily showered alone he still wanted this. A few seconds of thought and you gestured to one of the larger stalls. “Does showering together happen often?” Was that what these were for? He told you they were, also for another reason that was apparently unimportant but this was mainly for couples. You weren’t sure about any of this but you didn’t know enough about troll culture to call him out on it. If this went south and this was all a ruse to get you to lower your guard you couldn’t fight him off. </p>
<p>“You can’t clean yourself with your clothes on.” He scolded, slipping out of his pants to reveal his prison issued black boxer briefs. He had muscles that signalled a hard worker but a softer edge that told you he was used to having slower, easier days. Still, his size was somewhat daunting and those claws could tear your skin so much easier than you could split his. “You’re worried.”</p>
<p>You tore your gaze away and shook your head. “I’m not.” You shimmied out of your pants and held them out smugly, “See?” You were proud of the way your voice was even and hands steady.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe I was ever afraid of you.” He muttered, snatching them from your grasp to throw them in the pile next to the door. “I can’t believe part of me is <em> still </em>afraid of you.”</p>
<p>His little confession helped your nerves. You stripped down facing away from him, a hand over your chest for some modesty that he didn’t seem to care about. You tried not to be obvious as you checked his body for any more differences. He had a frame just like yours and from behind you expected a tail or spines - something other than the smooth plane of his back and shoulders. All of him was still a darkened gray and even his toenails were black and somewhat pointed. You didn’t see him take off any socks now that you thought about it. Surely trolls had socks.</p>
<p>The water started with a snarl from the pipes and he stuck his hand under the spray. “How cold do you want the water?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want it cold.” You told him, reaching out and fiddling with the knobs. It was room temperature at best. “Do you take cold showers?”</p>
<p>“It feels like cool water when I take them, yes.” He backtracked to grab the soap and shampoo, a hand coming to your shoulder to guide you under the spray. “Sometimes trolls are sensitive to temperatures.” His fingers went to work aiding the water into your hair and you tried to relax. This felt vulnerable and dangerous. Even if he said you were friends and...<em> moirails </em>, being butt naked taking a shower wrenched out raw emotions. </p>
<p>To take your mind away from how easily he could take you down you decided to talk. “What are those things on your chest?”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about we have the same - oh - they’re remnants of my wriggler days.” When he deemed your hair wet enough he grabbed the shampoo and poured out a generous glob. “We’re born as grubs and the extra arms eventually become vestigial as we get older and they turn into these. You guys are born as just tinier versions of yourselves, right?”</p>
<p>That sounded fake. How can trolls be born as grubs? Maybe it was lost in translation but you highly doubted the change from worm to biped was that smooth. Once again, you didn’t know enough to argue with him and took it for what it was. “Yeah. We were all just fat little babies that eventually learn how to walk and talk.” He worked up the shampoo to a thick lather and kept it swept back away from your eyes, claws working through the tangles that formed during your short time away from the showers. It was a little humiliating and endearing he was willing to do this. “I can return the favor, right? Of doing this to you?”</p>
<p>“You can. I would appreciate it.”</p>
<p>It was different. When your hair was rinsed out and you added conditioner you swapped spots. You had to stretch to start working on his hair but he was patient, a low rumbling in his chest while your fingers massaged his scalp and worked around his horns, glad to finally get the chance to touch them. When you dug your fingers harder at the base he sighed happily. “Will the broken one grow back?” It wouldn’t. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“When I passed through the portal to get here a human was waiting with a bat.” He ducked his head under the spray to rinse and did that part himself if only so it wouldn’t take so long. You fingered out the few knots he had in his own course, thick hair and added the conditioner. His was specially made for trolls and you wondered what the difference was briefly.</p>
<p>You washed your bodies down with soap and rags, rinsing off not long after. Taking a shower with him wasn’t as terrible as you believed. You felt refreshed and it was nice not having to worry about getting jumped while you were in here. You were tempted to sneak a peek between his legs or outright ask about it but felt like you had gone too far as it was. You dried off and redressed, surprised when Marklo came up behind you to fix your hair differently than you normally would. </p>
<p>You dumped your clothing in the receptacle and headed outside to stargaze. You had expected to be called out for your doubled-up shower time but no one did. You knew several trolls had seen the two of you come out of the stall together but their eyes were mostly on Marklo, thoughtfulness mixed with another emotion you couldn’t decipher. He made smalltalk for a while until he left to hang out with his friends again. You allowed yourself some time to get lost in the sky above and retreated to your cell, looking over the papers again until you fell asleep.</p>
<p>“We have to do something about this stench.” You told the highblood when you went in the next night. You tried shutting the door very gently so the locks wouldn’t take and it worked for a few seconds until the heaviness had it closing. Maybe if you tried a plate the next time it would stay open? You don’t know why you didn’t think of this before.</p>
<p>The room was disgusting. There were flies and all sorts of filthy insects rummaging around and you walked around the edge of the room where the food was thinnest to wheel the cart over. He muttered something bitter and you watched where his hands were to make sure you couldn’t get snatched. His eyes roamed around the edges of the room, snarling in his own language and ignoring you for the most part. You weren’t sure if he was like this normally or if you had something to do with pushing him to this strange psychosis but it was more for your benefit that you were willing to do something about the sorry state of his cell. </p>
<p>He didn’t approach when you left the cart nearby and backed away to check the door again. There was nothing in the room you could use to scoop up the mess and knew if you wanted any supplies you’d have to ask the guard. The troll began eating and you propped your hands on your hips, “Do you know how long you’ve been down here?”</p>
<p>Through the little slot in his helmet you saw nothing but fangs. He whispered something sinister and resumed jamming food back into his face. “Do you even know where you are, right now?” More incomprehensible muttering. “Do you know the last time you’ve seen outside?”</p>
<p>He paused. The two glimmering crimson lights turned to you with deadly awareness and you forced yourself to hold your ground. “Four sweeps?” His voice was raspy as though it were hard for him to speak.</p>
<p>You didn’t know what ‘sweeps’ were or if they were actually something else that didn’t translate well. His attention turned back to his food and he went back to eating noisily, eventually going back into the corner of the room to talk to the shadows. You took the cart and greeted the guard when he opened the door. “Can I bring down some garbage bags and a shovel?”</p>
<p>He turned his nose up at the contents of the room and shrugged, “If you want to.” Halfway up the elevator he laughed, “We might even be able to hook a hose up so you can spray the bastard down.”</p>
<p>You just finished showering with one troll, there was no way you were about to help another. </p>
<p>Since your arm was now freed of its cast you were back in the kitchen and Marklo was there beside you, slicing apart those horrible, fat, worm-like creatures into cubes to dump into a pot. “Why,” he asked as he set aside the knife to stir the bubbling brown concoction, flicking in a bit of salt and some other spices, “Do you smell bad again?”</p>
<p>As if he didn’t know. You ducked your head to sniff your clothing and the stench only lingered a little. It wasn’t <em> terrible </em>. “I just came back from delivering food.”</p>
<p>He shook his head and wagged the ladle in your direction. “What happened to the highblood to have him like that? Is he sick?” You couldn’t answer that. You thinned your lips and went back to studiously making bread but he came up behind you and leaned over your shoulder. “What aren’t you telling me?”</p>
<p>“I...don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>He hummed and went back to dicing up whatever foreign vegetables they had on hand for today. You doubted this would be the end of it now that he was suspicious. Cooking helped work the muscles in your arm and while you were forced to stretch it out often to get rid of the kinks and aches, it was progress. At least you still <em> had </em>your arm. </p>
<p>He wasn’t able to eat lunch with you since his friends had gotten to him first. You couldn’t feel bad about it since he was their friend originally and he was allowed to speak with others that weren’t you. Going outside to watch the stars, you couldn’t help the little flicker or happiness when he showed up late into the night. You didn’t say much. There was a comfort in sitting in silence beside each other but eventually you needed to turn in. You left with a small wave and curled up in your bed to sleep.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>You were allowed two rolling garbage cans and a plastic shovel. A guard followed you down this time to help bring along the cart but ultimately you were locked in the cell alone. With every hoist of the shovel, the muscles rebelled and you wiped the sweat from your forehead onto your arm. If you didn’t stink from how disgusting the room was you would thanks to the copious amount of sweat pouring off of you. The room didn’t have a single breeze drifting through and you couldn’t spot any air vents.</p>
<p>“What brought about this motherfucking change?”</p>
<p>You rolled your neck and went back to work, speaking in between heavy dumps of old food and wafts of hot air. You were about to say, ‘I think I would be disappointing someone if they found out I was doing this’, but he didn’t need to know how much Marklo was affecting you. It was the same old argument you had with yourself: whether or not he would support what you were doing. The highblood did deserve it and you told him as much - but you weren’t supposed to be evil. Marklo finally believed you were good, or at least trying to be. That was what your silence came down to when telling him the truth. You didn’t know and you didn’t want him to be upset with you.</p>
<p>“Pity,” you said instead, “You’re already stuck down here forever.”</p>
<p>“Pity?” His laughter started out light and short. It paused here and there before it picked back up and his bellowing guffaws made you cringe. He was so ungodly loud it hurt and you were able to tell him to shut up but the tone sharply turned. It had dread pooling in your stomach and his chains rattled, the cuffs holding him down straining. “You<em> ‘pity me’ </em> motherfucker?”</p>
<p>You were starting to grow tired of accidentally pissing this monster off. You didn’t know what to say anymore and focused on shovelling, wincing sharply at the bone-shattering snarl he let out. You dropped the shovel and quickly snatched it back up, wielding it like a weapon in case he came any closer. He lowered himself to a crouch so his face was level with yours despite being several feet away. His breathing came out slow but alarmingly audible, crackling hoarse and wet. You licked your dry lips and cleared your throat. “Back up.”</p>
<p>His eyes narrowed to a smarmy squint. To your surprise, he shuffled back about three feet and hummed. “I must have scrambled whatever you’ve got behind those eyes, lowblood.” He checked out the shovel and the garbage cans, the disgusting pile of food between you two. He drawled something in his other language and you gathered yourself mentally to keep shovelling. In no time at all the garbage cans were filled and you’d need about one more to get the rest. </p>
<p>The guard took the cart and you carried the garbage cans through a new path of hallways toward a group of large dumpsters. The guard had a taser at the ready and told you if you tried to run he wouldn’t mind using it. You wouldn’t be attempting an escape anytime soon. You wouldn’t even know where to go if you did.</p>
<p>Back inside you went to work doing laundry and added your own to the bunch, sneakily changing clothes behind one of the washing machine units. You were sure the cameras picked up on it but they couldn’t get too upset with you for wanting to smell nicer, surely. You’d already have to shower again to get the sweat out from your hair and clean your skin. </p>
<p>The moment you opened the doors to the courtyard you discovered it was raining. There weren’t that many trolls outside and you knew they had probably gone to the nicer areas of the prison where you weren’t allowed to go. The sky was blocked out entirely and the cool breeze sent little sprinkles of rain against your cheeks and arms. It had been a long time since you felt the rain. </p>
<p>“You want to go out there and get wet or do you want to go back to your cell?”</p>
<p>You turned at Marklo’s question and smirked, “I thought you’d be off with your friends.”</p>
<p>He shrugged, yellow eyes half-lidded in boredom, “They wanted to get in on that television drama.” He turned on his heel and you followed along back upstairs, sitting beside him on your bed. </p>
<p>You weren’t sure what to do with yourself. Your investigation on the Trollhunter came up short. You were righting your wrong with the highblood downstairs. You hadn’t gotten into any fights and just befriending Marklo apparently kept you more or less safe from the other trolls. The fire in your stomach had started to fade and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing. What happened if the two of you got into a fight and he left you alone again? What if someone still tried picking a fight with you and he wasn’t there to help?</p>
<p>His fingers went to work brushing out the ends of your hair and he patted his thigh. You debated against giving in until he practically bent you in half to get you to stretch out. “What are you thinking about?”</p>
<p>“You.” His claws plucked at the strands and gently scratched along your scalp. “This place.” His body temperature was a bit lower than yours and solid, the only soft part of him really was his stomach. “This is getting old pretty quickly.” His fingers paused and you were quick to clarify, “Being in prison. Not this. I am...really glad for this let me tell you.” He snorted out a laugh and you pushed at his chin when the air washed over your face. “How much longer do you have until you get out of here?”</p>
<p>“I have two more years.” He went back to massaging your scalp, “I was sentenced to fifteen because of how much stuff I stole. I got three years knocked off for good behavior.” Two years and he’d be out of here. Two years and you’d be alone again. You fisted the bottom of your shirt and his hands gently patted your cheeks to draw you out of the abyss you teetered on. “You’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>Staring up into his eyes he looked so certain - so positive you’d survive without him here. That you wouldn’t let the harassment and assault get to you and you’d venture on with the confidence and moxie they all believed you to have.</p>
<p>He grunted when he curled over himself and brought your foreheads together. “Don’t look at me like that.” You didn’t know what facial expression you wore. He straightened with a gasp and grinned, “We just have to toughen you up before I go.”</p>
<p>While you spoke about your training regime a small thought planted itself in the back of your mind. </p>
<p>You did stretches before you went to bed and Marklo told you he’d try to bring you back some exercise books for tomorrow. </p>
<p>Back downstairs you ventured alone, one hand to guide the cart and the other to pull the trash can with the shovel inside. You struggled with the door and after successfully making it inside it was more or less upsetting that the smell hadn’t gone down. Irritated that your efforts hadn’t instantly worked, you glared at the highblood stirring in the back of the room. “When’s the last time you had a shower?”</p>
<p>“Long before I was put in these motherfucking cuffs, Lil’ <em> Bitch </em>.” He answered just as quickly, stretching to the best of his abilities sluggishly.</p>
<p>You sneered and rolled the cart toward him, letting it loudly clatter over the uneven tiles and stale food too crusty for you to shovel up. “It’s nasty in here. You’re nasty.”</p>
<p>“<em> What do you expect me to do about it- </em>” he rambled on in his mother tongue for a bit at that point but you were already going to work. You’d need to take another shower after this but if you did a good enough job today then you’d done your part to make up for your own lesser torment. You didn’t realize how much food you wasted until you had to pick it up. It seemed like so much less when you were starving him.</p>
<p>You took a break and stretched your arms and legs, listening to the junctions pop and feeling the nerves tingle. The cart rattled and you had just enough time to see him draw his arm back to hold up the shovel in defense. </p>
<p>The cart came fast and hard. </p>
<p>Pain shot up through your left hand and a corner of the cart struck your right knee. The force was enough to send you up off your feet and the cart snapped against the handle of the shovel and flew over you into the wall. Your senses were wild, the sharp shriek of metal echoed back in the room and left a ringing in your ears. You rolled upright and cupped your left wrist, seeing the knuckles already swelling and the throbbing that came in time with your heartbeat. You couldn’t move your fingers. Whether it was because they were broken or just because of the shock you weren’t sure yet.</p>
<p>You were still intact though. Having an entire dining cart slung at you at high speed would probably have broken your bones if not for the shovel. The highblood was watching calmly. He didn’t look angry or annoyed. It was as though he did it merely to do it. You hadn’t even antagonized him other than your first comment when you arrived - but he had said so many worse things before. You got to your feet and checked out the shovel, knowing there was a good chance you’d get in trouble when they saw it was nearly bent in half and the scooping part snapped in two.</p>
<p>You made sure you had his full attention when you told him, “Guess who just lost their eating privileges again?” </p>
<p>The highblood had the audacity to snarl.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is my favorite chapter so far and I can't wait to post it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Isolation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You know what they say about good intentions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is where everything starts to kick off and personally one of my favorite chapters I've written so far. Fair warning: it is intentionally sporadic and kind of abstract so if it doesn't make a ton of sense that's fine!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Cooking. Talking. Outside. Sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inventory. Reading. Outside. Sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shop work. Reading. Outside. Sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Days passed and eventually the monotony was getting to you. You worked out in your cell and downstairs whenever Marklo brought you books to read for you to follow a workout regimen. Sometimes you wrestled under the guise of sparring. Sometimes you just curled up in bed and spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The highblood was back to his snarling insanity but you were starting to get his tells. When he was borderline rabid he postured more than anything. You accidentally stumbled close enough to get struck but he never lashed out, he roared and ranted but he never raised a hand. When he was the one to start the conversation he was in a pleasant mood despite his cursing and threats. If you entered and he was just waking up he wouldn’t bother speaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was when he was quiet that he was the most dangerous. If you tried to get him to talk and it took longer than normal for him to reply you would dump his food in the trash bin you decided to keep down there and wait it out. On those days he didn’t utter a syllable. He would watch, never blinking like the apex predator he was for you to slip up and get within touching range until you left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staleness came to an end when one of the trolls said something to Marklo in the kitchen. He whirled around with something equally biting and continued on in a language you couldn’t understand. The rest of the trolls in the area slowed down their work to watch and listen, chittering in guttural words and hissing between them. You saw an orange blooded troll bring his chest against Marklo’s and snarl directly into his face. Marklo paused, cocked his head to the side, and uttered something so quiet the rest of the trolls leaned forward to catch it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo was on the ground the next moment and your heart stopped. They were suddenly shouting, roaring with all teeth and rage. Your hand went to the nearest object, a pan cooking on the stove, and you cracked it against the attackers head as hard as you dared. Food went splattering across the floor and the troll let out a startled shriek, scuttling away, holding the side of his head. One of his friends went to his side and one went for you, sharpened claws ready to carve you to pieces, exuding bloodlust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo was still getting to his feet when you grabbed another item from the counter and backed up to swing. The oncoming troll froze and the air in the kitchen felt suffocating. The food on the stove bubbled and crackled. The vent above the oven rattled with its fan on high.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one spoke for twelve long seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trollhunter.” Marklo called out in a stern voice. You couldn’t look away from the troll in front of you. He wouldn’t give you the chance. “Enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You scoffed, “He was attacking you. What was I supposed to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one was moving. Marklo dropped a hand on your shoulder and you jumped. His eyes were dark and cautious, cold even. “I thought you said you weren’t a killer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your jaw dropped. Why would he say that now? You were defending him. You only wanted to protect him. “I’m not.” He curled his upper lip and wrapped his hand around your arm gently. You turned to his hand and saw the wickedly long chef's knife clutched tightly in your grip. You didn’t know what you had grabbed - you just grabbed something - anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo took it from you slowly and you turned to face him. “I didn’t know it was a knife.” No wonder everyone stopped what they were doing. They saw the infamous Trollhunter weilding a weapon ready to strike down the next person that came close. They thought you were going to start stabbing and go on another rampage. His brows pulled together and you shook your head, lowering your voice. “I swear I didn’t know. I just saw him push you and I was scared-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo set it aside with a quiet clack and cupped the back of your head, tugging you against his chest to hold you there. Your hands went to his shirt and you held onto him as if he would disappear. “Hush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t do anything wrong. You were trying to protect him. You weren’t a killer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on in here?” You flinched at the booming shout of the guard coming into the room and held onto Marklo that much tighter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trollhunter got a hold of the knife.” One of the trolls behind you quickly blurted. The room erupted into an mish-mash of explanations as to what happened and you were surprised to hear another voice pipe up in your defence. Marklo hadn’t let go. His hands stroked down the top of your head and for a moment his chest vibrated in a soothing rumble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They took you from the kitchen and slapped a pair of handcuffs behind you, manhandling you hard enough to no doubt leave bruises for you to find later. Into one of the higher-ups offices you were thoroughly scolded and berated. Shouted and snarled at before five trolls and humans, telling you you were on “thin fucking ice” and had you actually used the knife there would have been much worse consequences than you could imagine. They got in your face, they grabbed your head to keep you from turning away from them, they told you your punishment was a two-parter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first being sentenced to one week of solitary confinement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You had hoped not to see this room again for some time - if ever again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t the exact room you were brought to last time but it was pretty much the same. The space was somewhat smaller than your cell; it lacked windows and a handle on your side of the door. There was a slot at the bottom for food and water and you spent the first day trying to sleep away the time. It was hard to hear anything beyond the thick walls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After several seemingly short naps you tried working out. A few leg shaking lunges, a couple of push-ups, as many squats as you could before the burn in your thighs was too much. You even managed three burpees before you decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was enough. Popping your joints and stretching practically every part of your body, you sat heavily down on the bed and turned your focus inward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You thought about how unfair this was. How stupid the officers were for letting you work in the kitchen. Even if you were making bread for the most part the knives had always been available. You could have taken them at any point and you haven’t - any of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them </span>
  </em>
  <span>could have used the knives against </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d be losing money staying here. You made practically nothing as it was. Would you ever be able to afford clothes or better food? Could you ever afford anything nice? What had Marklo even been talking about with the other troll?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You let yourself fall into your dismal thoughts that ranged from money to work to general curiosity. You thought about the language of trolls and back to your past and investigatory dead end. Marklo was right to ask why you thought you would notice something experienced professionals could not. There was no rhyme or reason for you to go on a murdering spree. You just killed for the sake of killing and made sure it was trolls that suffered most. Honestly, you had no qualms with trolls. They had never done anything to you to risk your wrath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Digging deeper in your psyche you tried to remember what you were doing before your blackout. The years of lost memories hid too much for you to peer through, there were only blurry colors and the sound of a car. The sensation of feeling small and gazing upon something wondrous. Clean air. Crunching leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman's voice. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar </span>
  </em>
  <span>voice, mischievous and musical. She was...a friend?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were driving far away from home for some reason. You didn’t feel anxious. You were excited. You were travelling with her. She…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You squeezed your eyes shut when the memories faded. Long before that moment you remembered buying a television in your apartment. You ate thanksgiving with your college friends. You mailed out birthday presents to those that lived far away. Those memories were hazy but intact, marked as the last times you felt like yourself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frustration got the better of you. Your thoughts circled back over and after running them through again, after digging in the past for anything new and coming up empty, you had an uncomfortable awareness of just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed was uncomfortable but better than the cold floor. You had a blanket that was practically a towel. No pillows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No sounds other than your own breathing and shuffling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shut your eyes and tried sleeping again but failed miserably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were 54 tiles on the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You needed a proper file to trim your nails. After trying to clean out the dirt underneath, you flipped your hand around and traced your flexor creases until the gentle touch turned itchy and you scratched it. Then scratched it again with your teeth. Being so close to your hands had you checking out the tattoos again. The black bands around your wrist were about two inches thick and there was a smaller oval underneath. Luckily the tattoos on your fingers and the back of your palm had already started to fade and it had only been what, six months? Seven? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hadn’t even been here a full year and you were put into solitary </span>
  <em>
    <span>twice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hadn’t even done anything wrong. You touched a knife and got slapped with a whole week of this? Unfair. The first time, the highblood deserved to be punished for being practically rabid. He broke your body and threw you around like a ragdoll. A little revenge wasn’t terrible. He had it coming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You wanted a haircut. It was unruly and whenever you showered the ends were never even. Whoever trimmed it last did a terrible job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d like some floss too just to make sure you didn’t miss out on whatever your toothbrush couldn’t reach. Was there some kind of program at the prison for dentistry? Could you even get fillings if anything happened? Did trolls need that sort of thing or did their teeth grow back?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a single, tiny vent in the upper corner of the room that lacked an airflow. Two lights were installed into the ceiling with what you assumed were heavy duty plastic covers, bright and slightly yellowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The metal latch on the door opened and pushed in a tray of food so quickly the latch shut by the time you sprang upright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The food was warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the same troll cuisine as it always was and you wondered if you’d ever eat...well...human food again. A regular burger with mustard and mayo. Bacon and lettuce. Sweet buns instead of mildly firm bread with an aftertaste you couldn’t place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something that wasn’t made out of worms or weird, thorned vegetables.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with the tray when you were finished and set it back in front of the slot. The fact that someone came by a few minutes later to drag it back out told you they were either guessing or someone was watching through the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most likely it was the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time passed agonizingly slowly and you felt every minute of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You guessed the times of day by how many meals were offered and by the end of day three you were livid. You prowled around in the little space like a caged animal, the walls oppressive and looming. It felt like you were trapped here and they would forget about you - on purpose. There was no new air being cycled and without a shower you had no way to wash yourself every time you woke up in a sweat from nightmares of being buried alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes the nightmares were of the trolls you killed coming back to haunt you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes it was like you could hear their voices whenever you popped awake before it cleared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes it was of a dark abyss. You couldn’t make out up or down but there was a ground, a hollowness around you like being stuck in a room much like this but without the lights. Strangely enough you could see yourself as clearly as you could in the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You dreamt of this black pocket space more often with every day that passed and by the end of day seven you felt like time had stopped when all they did was give you another plate of food. When you left this room you would sit in the mess hall all day just to be around others. You couldn’t stand this loneliness. This stagnant lifestyle with nothing to pass the time but your thoughts and ever flickering rage and hatred. You hated this box. This cage. This room. This life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They took the plate and you sat by the doors and waited for someone to come by with a pair of cuffs to bring you out of here. You wouldn’t touch a knife again. You wouldn’t even look in its direction. If Marklo got into another fight you’d just have to drag him away or stay out of it. You couldn’t have protected him anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hours of listening to your breathing, your body pressed against the door to hear footsteps you know you couldn’t hear through the metal and concrete, and you found yourself back into the abyss of your dreams looking down at your own hands with acute awareness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The latch opened and another tray of food was pushed inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The eighth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. Wait. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were feeding you once a day and this was the eighth day. You pounded your palm against the door - your palm not your fist you had struck the door before and all you got in return were bruised knuckles and the pain didn’t help your growing anger issues - and called out. This wasn’t right. They said seven days and you served your time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite your calls and knocking no one answered. You stared down at the food and wondered if they were really only feeding you once a day. Maybe it was twice a day and it just seemed endless because you had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Maybe this was only your fourth day here and you still had three to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That couldn’t be possible. Your sense of time couldn’t be skewed that much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You saved the food for later and worked out, pushing yourself to the limits and finishing the food in no time. They’d be here to get you any moment, you were sure. You sat by the door and waited with your tray beside your shoes. A hand reached in just barely to scoop the tray out and you got to your feet to be led back to your cell. You’d be able to look out into the Block and out to the other trolls. You’d hear them snoring and grumbling and calling out to each other. You’d hear anything other than what little there was now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes. You were positive it had been several minutes and no one came. You stayed there until your feet throbbed from the hard floors and an ache settled in your lower back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You curled up in bed and stared at the wall, eyes tracking each groove and curve of the painted cement walls, peering into the little shadows there until you were back in the darkness of your dream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could hear something in the distance. It was like a whisper without words and you headed towards the sound, pausing every now and then to strain your ears to make sure you were headed in the right direction. You walked aimlessly and it never got any louder. You felt lighter than air and well rested, you felt like yourself again before this prison took everything from you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well fed. Well hydrated. No scars, worries, or gaudy tattoos. You tried conjuring up a forest or a cityscape but the world remained black. This was your dream so surely you could create anything past this emptiness. Focusing harder you imagined a grand dinner and tried to remember what fresh cookies smelled like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then something touched you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You whipped around and backed away a few steps only to find nothing. You were alone here as you ever were and waved your hand around before you to see if there was something there. Maybe you did create something but you just couldn’t see it properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There. A touch. Something cold and solid. A very faint reflection of your own skin color on the other side of the solid surface, short and blurred.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You drove your hands along the plane and found it reached higher than you could stretch and - surprisingly - lower than your feet. Like your hands went past the foundation where you stood into some void you couldn’t fall through. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dream logic was just like that you supposed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You held onto the wall and followed it for unnecessarily longer than you anticipated. Surely there would be a wall coming up soon - and speak of the devil. You brought up your other hand and touched the new wall that felt as smooth and seamless as the other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sound like thunder rolled faintly above you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You followed the new wall again to another corner, then another and another, tirelessly walking along edges and invisible pathways of the infinite space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually you came across something long and curved, curled at the very bottom and tip, nearly flush against the wall. When you grasped the item with two hands you could hear the noise better. The voiceless words so very far away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a hard tug you squinted up at the bright lights of the isolation room and heard the latch on the door click shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Day nine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were so sure you could hear people talking outside of your room. The words were garbled and even with your head against the door you couldn’t make out anything than the syllables inflection. Whoever they were - because there </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>two of them - they were having a lovely conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You told them you could hear them. You told them it was dirty to keep you in here past your sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What lovely weather we’ve been having outside.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Haven’t seen the sunrise in a bit since we’re stuck in here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s going to be winter soon. The leaves are already turning orange.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You dropped to the little latch and tried prying it up with your fingernails again. You’d tried once to keep it open but it was heavier than you thought and all you did was get your fingers pinched. Clawing at the edges you put your cheek to the floor and tried lifting the latch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you going to be with your family for the holidays?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t spoken to them in months. I don’t know.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t get the latch open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What about winter wear?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What about it?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you going to bring your clothes from home or the ones provided?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your fingernails split but you had others you could use.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t made a snowman in years.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t made snow angels since I was a kid.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The latch was seamless. No amount of fanangling could get it open. You slammed your fist into the metal and howled in rage. You felt sensitive. Hopeless and angry. You’d be stuck in this room forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to taste my mom’s cooking again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to see my family.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You kicked and screamed. Letting loose whatever festered inside of you in screeching and kicking, you collapsed in a heaving pile staring down at your bruised and busted knuckles. The voices continued on the other side and you heard footsteps of another individual approach. They were fine. They were happily chatting away while you withered on the other side of the door. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t do anything to deserve this. Dragging your hands up the side of the door you tried picking at the metal for something to snag but there was nothing. Everything was too solidly built and heavy. There was no escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tray slid through the slot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Navigating the darkness was just as disorienting as it was before. Wandering around the edges of walls you didn’t come across the rod-like object again. You found that no matter how quickly you picked up the pace you didn’t feel fatigue. You wished you had a pair of wings - this was a dream you deserved something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> - but, unfortunately, you were limited to your own two legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Listening to the only sound in the dream you were fairly certain it could have been music. The rhythm was slow but the beat was a bit sporadic, the instrument some type of brass maybe, or a woodwind? A drum in the background was also possible. It was incredibly hard to hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something small and round smacked into your arm and you quickly grabbed hold. A doorknob? Here? Pushing it open you were assaulted by blinding lights and ducked your head, squinting at the ground to your prison issued shoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait. This was the cell. The door clicked shut behind you and you craned your head back to look toward the ceiling. There was the camera in the corner. A thin mattress with a towel-like blanket. A toilet on the other side. Were you awake? You patted the walls. They seemed real. Digging your fingers into your arm you felt a soft prick of pain with a pinch of your fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had you been sleepwalking? Moving to your bed you took a seat and rubbed the back of your neck. It felt stiff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stretched and went back to working out. A few push ups. A couple of jumping jacks. A few yoga poses you knew to keep the blood flowing. While your head was down you heard the latch open and your tray slide into the room. Gently lowering yourself to your knees you peered up and discovered the tray was missing. Crawling over you felt the spot where the food would have been. It was warm. Did they take the tray right back out as soon as they delivered it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter how loud you called out no one answered you from the other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hoisted yourself back on the bed and stared at the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time you blinked you were in the darkness again. You held your hand out as if on instinct and an invisible wall was directly to your front. With nothing else to do but walk you continued searching for the shape on the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t an easy way to explain it but being in here was only marginally better than being in the cell. Even if there was a black abyss on all sides with walls that probably weren’t real, you felt grounded. There was a curious, almost mythical sensation following the walls that stretched into forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Otherworldly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of a tray sliding across the ground made you pause. There, a few feet before you was the off-white lunch tray you’d seen since coming to the prison. Colored. Filled with food and smelling very much real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hesitated and walked over, picking it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were sitting on the mattress and half the food was eaten, your hand partially raised, your mouth filled with grubloaf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Funnily enough, you were still in the darkness and only yourself and the food were physical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gulp. It wasn’t fully chewed and tasted both gritty and smooth going down your throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your tongue felt dry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were walking again, feeling the edges of the walls and travelling over unseen ground. Time seemed to skip and jump, the sounds familiar but off in the distance. Voices chattered on about something and you were fairly certain one belonged to a late night television ad you had seen hundreds of times before. Something about medicine. Don’t worry about the side effects, the benefits should be worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could smell food again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bottom of your feet felt tender as if you’d been walking on gravel for hours - unsteady, loud, painful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the cell you were huddled next to the door and told yourself you’d grab onto the hand the next time they reached through. The punishments didn’t matter. You needed to get out of the room. Let them ship you out to a supermax. Let them beat you or starve you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t want to be alone anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the darkness, locks clicked when your hand felt along the pointed rims of a large rectangle. Inside, a familiar slow breath rolled like an ocean wave in the quiet and you scowled. Out of everywhere your unstable dreams brought you it was to the bane of your existence. You couldn’t see the troll but you knew he was there. Closing the distance you felt a wall of something rough, a smell of sweat and musk, brittle fabric and firm texture. You backtracked, mouth moving to tell him how much you hated him but being here was somehow better than being alone although he didn’t answer. He just roiled and grumbled as he always had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the cell you watched someone take the tray and dropped to your knees, snatching the latch before it swung shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A boot kicked your hands away the minute your eyes laid across the linoleum floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were tired of this darkness. Sick of being here you ran as quickly as your legs could take you until your lungs burned. Your wrist cracked against a protrusion and you identified it as the rod from before. It could be a handle of some kind but it was so much bigger than you. Made for someone much larger than yourself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You wrenched it open and heard it groan against invisible hinges. It felt over a hundred pounds and your shoulders popped, the muscles along your spine tenses and your weaker foot slipped against the ground. You refused to let go, however, and flopped down in an awkward sprawl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding your leg against the wall beside the opening you gained just enough leverage to keep it opening continuously. The music was still faint but it was clearer now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You slipped between the opening you made and the wall your foot was propped against and skipped a few feet out onto the other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rumble far above your head started and stopped like a vehicle switching gears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tiny speck in the distance flashed with yellows and red, spotlights aimed toward the void above fading to the same nothingness that resided around it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A breeze rustled your hair and you turned to face it, breathing in deeply. It filled your lungs like mint tasted, cool and refreshing, powerful enough to linger even when it was over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were outside and everything would be okay. It had to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grass crunched to your left and you turned but felt a presence behind you, directly at your back. A voice cooed and whispered in a broken language you’d never heard before. Fingers dropped one by one onto your shoulder and slid down the front of your chest. A second hand curled posessively around your neck and the voice puffed out stagnant air beside your ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A third hand dropped to your hip and squeezed your stomach. A fourth ran up and down your leg like a doctor had ages ago to see how well you were healing. Two more hands slid up the back of your neck into your hair and with a tug that felt like more of a suggestion, forced you to look skyward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was something there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t see it or make heads or tails as to what it was but something was looking down at you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another hand curled gently underneath your chin and stroked your face lovingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A fingertip prodded between your lips and urged your mouth open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The creature surrounding you, encasing you completely, drew itself inward and your body was twisted into an upright fetal position. Something was underneath you for support. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fingertip tapped your lips again in a silent request.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two of its many hands cupped your ears and in a voice that stole every bit of heat from your body, it uttered:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, you escaped. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world was burning white and yellow. Grayish blue shadows blurred and smudged across your vision like a messy oil panting. You couldn’t tell up from down and you flailed, the ground shifting back and forth and over again, sounds came rushing back, all merged together in an ugly garbled noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trollhunter!” You froze and two hands were on your face, slightly cooler than you were used to. Marklo came into vision and his thumbs rubbed gentle circles over your cheeks, “Are you with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were in the cell. Marklo was kneeling on the floor, partially over your leg, the other dangling halfway off the bed at a strange angle. “What? W-what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His upper lip curled in a snarl but with a sharp breath he controlled himself. “I’ll tell you later. You want to get out of here don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your hand was on him in the next second, fingers clutching his sleeve in a death grip. “I can leave?” Was he real? Was any of this real?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood and pulled you up with him, easily offering support to your shaky legs. The guards watched with sharp eyes as you were led out of the cell and down the hallway you saw when you first came here. There were lights. Reflections on the floor. Everything was in color. You patted your face and Marklo’s hand came up to pat your other cheek with a sad, somewhat humored smile. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glared at the guards following your slow shamble and lowered his voice. “You were delirious and they didn’t want to go in the cell with you.” He brushed some hair out of your face and sighed. Any more questioning had him shushing you but all you wanted to do was talk. You hadn’t spoken to anyone in a week and it was horrendous how badly it affected you. You didn’t want to let him go. You could walk but you felt as though if you let him slip from your touch you would end up right back there in the cell without him or anyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You basked in the sounds of all the other trolls in the Cell Division and almost wept. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo took you toward your cell but you dragged him toward the courtyard outside. It was wet. The grass damp with mildew - it must have rained a bit ago but it didn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trollhunter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You dragged him toward your spot by the wall and collapsed onto the ground, forcing him down with you lest he risk tearing his clothes. It was wet and cold and prickly. It was firm but soft at the same time. You could smell the trees and the grass and peered over at him through the corner of your eye. “I...think I lost my sanity.” You ran your hands across the grass. It tickled your palm and left behind green markings on your sleeve and fingernails. “It didn’t think I’d ever get out of there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shot upright the second he wasn’t touching your side but he was moving closer, shuffling on his knees to watch you from a more dignified position on the ground. His eyes were heavy, lips pinched and brows furrowed. His hands curled into loose fists and you reached out to touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers laced with yours instantly and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. “It felt a lot longer than seven days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nice to be out. You would have to tell him he was on his own when it came to fighting because you couldn’t go through that again. You’d be there to pick up the pieces and be his cheerleader but that was the extent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Humans are social creatures, aren’t you?” You were. You didn’t do well in isolation and this was proof. You basked in the smell of grass and the wetness in the atmosphere. Maybe it would rain again. You’d stay out here if it did. “When we get solitary it isn’t that big of a deal.” Were trolls solitary? That seemed silly for a race that had four different quadrants of romance. You dropped your head on your arm and gave him your undivided attention, fingers mindlessly playing with the bristly strands of grass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were in there for fifteen days.” Your fingers froze. “It’s the longest they’re legally allowed to keep someone in confinement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hoped for the punchline of this terrible joke but his face said it all. There was regret. Pity. Restrained rage and sadness. You shuffled to a position similar to his and waited. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I tried getting to you but they wouldn’t let me. They said you needed to learn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You just touched the knife. You didn’t even use it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.” He let his hand slip away and huffed out a bitter laugh. “You tried protecting what you hate the most and you’re still punished for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of his words were lost. They didn’t register as you realized you’d been stuck in a small room for half a month with no contact other than a hand sliding a tray in and out of a door. It was eternally day with no nights thanks to the fluorescent bulbs. You weren’t sure of the current time but it didn’t matter. You weren’t hungry. You didn’t have a Purpose now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were just outside with Marklo while he poured out his remorse for the way you were treated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing really mattered other than the Right Now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You found the strength to stretch out before him and rest your head in his lap, your face turned up to the starless sky filled with fattening gray clouds. His hands went to your hair, picking out knots and tangles as gently as he could. He was talking but you couldn’t hear him. His hands were working right in your peripheral, fingers curling, wrist flexing, nails poking at the tightly bound bundles of hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could have sworn you still felt hands covering your ears. The voice - less of a voice now that lost the inflection or actual sound - nothing remained but the words themselves in your own internal thoughts - replayed again and again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally, you escaped.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>◎ܫ◎</p>
<p>"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Like a Broken Record - Ostinato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally out of solitary, you attempt to get back into the rhythm of your imprisoned life but it isn't easy. You come up with an idea that plagues your mind and no matter how many times you try to rationalize, it won't go away.</p><p>Luckily Marklo is there to help...for the most part.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Updates might be coming out a little slower while I deal with work and moving but this fic won't be abandoned!)</p><p>You get more dialogue with GH in this chapter and here's where things start to kick off but like, it's still all slow build so, not really "kicking off" as much as it is "just getting the ball rolling." ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took almost three weeks to get back into the swing of things. The second part of your punishment was cleaning duty and before you turned in for the night you now had to do a broad sweep of the showers and bathrooms, the hallways, mess hall, and anywhere else trolls had ventured to and clean up after everything. You were sure there was a custodian doing this when everyone was locked down in the daytime but told yourself you were making life easier for someone so it wouldn’t feel so meaningless.</p><p>Marklo would drop by with books on the days he didn’t hang out with you - which weren’t too many but he was allowed to have a life of his own in prison - and you’d drop them back off to him while doing your last minute rounds. </p><p>You read a few of the classics, some older stuff from high school days but you weren’t going to be picky. It let you stay in the Blocks where most of the trolls lingered and you grew to enjoy their voices. There was a comfort in knowing you weren’t actually alone. </p><p>The monster downstairs finally had a food-free cell - as opposed to the plethora of new bloodstains and scratches - and luckily your trashcan was still there, the stench of it all blocked by the lid. You still dumped his food when he was being particularly cruel but somehow found more mercy and pitied him. You barely survived fifteen days in isolation and light. He spent every day other than the forty-five minutes with you alone in the dark, chained to the floor like the rabid animal he was.</p><p>“Have you ever escaped from here?” He made a grunt from within the mask and you cleared your throat to clarify. “I mean, I know you get your arms free sometimes and God knows how they get the chains back on you but, have you ever gotten out of this cell?”</p><p>“Motherfucker, if I ever got out of this room you bet your ass I ain’t ever coming back in it.” He dumped the big bowl of stew into the slot on his mask with an awkward turn of his head in one go. He set it back on the cart with a clink and licked his lips. </p><p>That was a no. “What would you do if you ever got out?”</p><p>Since you returned he had been slightly more receptive to questions. He didn’t seem to go out of his way to start conversations but his hostile posturing faded much quicker than before once he realized it was you. </p><p>“‘Sides kill every motherfucker I see?” Yeah. Besides that. He settled down and drew in a grand breath, “Probably head back to Alternia. This place is the fucking pits. I want four days to myself to drink the wicked elixir and bask in the -” he went on in a bit of troll terminology that was beyond you before he switched to english again, “then I’d come back here and pick up where I left off.”</p><p>You scowled, “You’d come back to earth?”</p><p>“Either the Condesce gets this husk or I do and I now want to do it all myself.”</p><p>Despite the topic, he seemed to be in a decent mood today. You didn’t want to press your luck but ventured on. “What would you do to make sure you weren’t captured again?” His eyes lit up and crinkled at the edges. Was he smiling under there? He rambled on and gestured with his hands, swinging his arms as much as he could with the chains still attached. Either he kept forgetting you didn’t know his language or he didn’t care and just wanted to hear the sound of his voice.</p><p>Before you could ask about the Condesce the door opened and the highblood went silent. He moved to the back of the cell and you took the cart upstairs to be cleaned.</p><p>Elbow-deep in a bleach/soap mixture in the kitchen again, you mumbled out a hello to Marklo when he passed by. You wanted to ask him about the Condesce but not once had the phrase been said among the trolls in the prison. Would it be that bad to tell him you were talking to the highblood? Would he suddenly doubt you again if he knew you were chatting it up with a troll that slaughtered almost indiscriminately?</p><p>Probably. You kept your questions to yourself and flicked suds at him when he added more dirty dishes to the sink. Eventually, with everything dried and ready for the next shift to come in and cook, you were dismissed and grabbed a plate to eat with Marklo.</p><p>“They’re thinking about sending me to do volunteer time outside of the prison.”</p><p>You arched a brow and bit off a chunk of meat from your tray. “Doesn’t volunteer work involve <em> volunteering </em>for the position?”</p><p>He scoffed. “You’d think. I think it’s where we’re getting more people coming in that they want to get rid of the ones with shorter sentences.”</p><p>You hated thinking about how long you had left with Marklo. He would get out of here soon enough and you’d have to fend for yourself. You had slacked off a bit on self-defense and working out but still wrestled occasionally and practiced fighting downstairs. He thumped your back and you almost choked on the food in your mouth. “I’m telling you so you don’t get so upset when I don’t see you for a few days.”</p><p>You nodded, mostly to yourself. You couldn’t hang on his coattails forever. You’d have to think of something. Especially since intimidating with weapons of any kind was officially thrown out since you found out just how bad the punishment was. “Thanks for the heads up.”</p><p>You were lost to your thoughts all day. From sitting outside until it got too cold for you to stand it, cleaning up abandoned towels in the showers and restocking toilet paper in the machines, you were at a loss. You hadn’t dreamt of the darkness of your dreams or the multitude of hands upon your body, eager for you to speak something into existence since you were back in public. It had to be madness that caused it since it couldn’t be anything else.</p><p>You didn’t want to talk about it with Marklo. He had asked several times but if you were to be poetic, it was like there was a finger pressed to your lips wishing for your silence. Better than a hand around your throat. It was nothing but insanity from isolation, you told him, nothing more. </p><p>You showered together and the more times you had the less awkward it felt. He didn’t care about your body other than to tell you how much weaker you were than him, your skin thinner than his own protective hide. He adored your hair because it was soft and silky when you conditioned it. You nearly pulled something from laughing when he called your breasts ‘rumble spheres’ and you refused to believe that was the direct translation. </p><p>Marklo was starting to disappear every other day to work and luckily, no one had come after you while you lacked backup.</p><p>Back downstairs the next night you barked out a hello and waited to see how he’d respond. Hearing a sluggish curse made you hesitate. “Are you not answering me because you’re tired or because you’re going to be psychotic today?”</p><p>His answer was quick. “Fuck you.”</p><p>Just cranky then. You wheeled the cart over and he got up from his sprawl in the back of the room to shamble over. “Hypothetically speaking,” you made sure to keep your voice low and casual, leaning back against the wall beside the door to ground yourself, “Do you know of any cameras or microphones in the room?”</p><p>He scoffed. “If there were they’d come down here a lot faster when I beat a motherfucker.” He plucked a chunk of some chunk of meat from the tray and tossed it into his mouth. You were mildly impressed with his ability to catch it but you’d never tell him. </p><p>“I…” were you seriously considering this? Consulting someone you wouldn’t trust with a <em> paper bag </em> about a plan that’s haunted you since you came out of solitary? You never dwelled much on it because it was a stupid idea. You could never pull it off. You would be struck with a death sentence faster than you could blink if you even tried.</p><p>But the highblood? He actually had a chance if he didn’t let his rage consume him. You took a few steps closer and paused when he did, some other light colored food in his fingertips held high above the plate with a pinch of his claws. His eyes shone dimly and his neck popped when he straightened a fraction to loom that much higher. </p><p>No. This was a plan doomed to fail and you should play it safe while you could. Judging by the wet sound seeping through the mouth hole of his mask, he ran his tongue over his teeth. “You disappeared on me for a while there, mutant. Thought you up and finally died.”</p><p>“I got put in solitary for a bit.” <em> Fifteen endless days of borderline madness. </em>You returned to your spot by the door and sank to the floor. He resumed eating like nothing happened and you rubbed the back of your neck. It was odd that he brought up your disappearance. Had he been looking forward to the possibility of being starved and snarked at? “When I asked you forever ago why you bothered speaking with me you said it was because I wouldn’t stop complaining.”</p><p>“And you’re still running your mouth.”</p><p>“Yet you’re still willing to answer.”</p><p>“I might as well get something out of this. You’re the only motherfucker that hasn’t shut up after my warning.” He set the final emptied plate down on the cart and gave it a little flick to send it rolling a few inches in your direction. “Figured I might as well see if there really is anything worth listening to.”</p><p>That was nowhere near as aggressive as you anticipated. You kept on high alert in case this was one of his tricks to hurt you again and stood. “And?”</p><p>“Nope!” He rattled the chains against the floor and threw his hands up. “You’re boring as <em> fuck </em> and you ain’t got shit to say about anything.” He started <em> laughing </em>. It wasn’t a murderous cackling sound or maniacal laughter bordering on the edge of sanity. He was laughing as if he told the funniest joke in the world, straight from the gut and loud as hell.</p><p>You scowled and took the cart, glad he gave you room to wheel it to the door. He settled back into the darkness and shut his eyes, signalling the end of your conversation.</p><p>You still thought about it. Getting out of here while using him somehow. </p><p>Even if you did escape you didn’t know where to go. You didn’t know how to live off the grid. You’d have to settle down somewhere in the forest but would it be worth the time and effort? There wouldn’t be anyone out there for you - same as in here. The chance of befriending another troll that didn’t hate your guts and was willing to give you a chance was slim. Here they already knew who you were. You didn’t have to worry about what would happen if they figured out your identity out there in the real world. </p><p>As if fate was testing your resolve, that night, as you were coming out of the showers with a cart full of towels, you were grabbed. You didn’t remember much of it. Being thrown against the wall, getting punched in the face and kneed in the gut, that much you remembered. You were found by the guards later as they did their Count and you came up missing. After watching the footage again to see what had happened you were told to keep a better eye on the time and sent to your cell.</p><p>Marklo fussed over you when he saw your swollen eye. You couldn’t tell him who attacked you, the attack came too fast and even if you did know you might have kept it to yourself. He was going to get out of this place soon and picking fights on your behalf would no doubt set him back.</p><p>The highblood had no issues voicing how you couldn’t handle yourself. He took one look at you and knew you had gotten into a fight and lost. He berated you on how you’ve been flailing around in front of him claiming to try and bulk up for weeks and the first time you put it into action you get smacked around. After you held out a bowl of some liquid over the trashcan he shut his mouth with little more than a snarl.</p><p>Life went on.</p><p>You practiced fighting. Marklo taught you when to duck and how to settle your feet. He was used to being offensive though, so it was a learning curve on both sides. Whenever you successfully managed to skip back from a full-bodied punch it had both of you smiling. You did have to take a break, however, when one particular scuffle had you losing your footing bad enough that the back of your head bounced off the wall and you collapsed in a dizzy pile. </p><p>It wasn’t a month later when you got jumped again. Out in the courtyard when you were alone, one troll crowded you into a corner and kept you in a hold while the other two used you as a punching bag. It was bad enough that you were dragged off to the infirmary and kept there overnight.</p><p>You wove small braids into Marklo’s hair while he quietly read aloud a week later. He acted as escort and unspoken bodyguard, the other trolls willing to keep to themselves while he was around knowing he’d fight on your behalf. You pried into what it was like coming to earth to distract him when he saw your bruised and busted state. </p><p>There was a portal somewhere on the west coast. A secret one, not the official one at the bottom of Missouri now containing an immigration building for troll assessment and whatever else the government wanted. There was a second in a place with the tallest trees he’d seen on earth and a river pouring out a cave. It was well-hidden, the space just big enough for him to squeeze through at the time but if more passed the same way he was sure it would have opened up a bit. </p><p>You started another braid and hummed, “What was there? Were there any mile markers?”</p><p>“Hm, no. It was pretty deep into the forest.” He kept his finger between the pages when he shut the novel as he thought. “It took a bit to find civilization.”</p><p>“Do you think you could find it again if you ever went back?”</p><p>He rolled to his side to face you and tossed the book near the pillow. “I wouldn’t. This place has its own problems but…” he flopped on his back and reached up to his hair to feel the braids. “It’s not so bad here.” You must have been making a face since he patted your cheek and sat upright, “Show me how you made these.”</p><p>He couldn’t give you any other information on the location of the portal other than that he took a wrong turn and ended up near the ocean. Thoroughly covered in braids of varying qualities, you showered and went to bed knowing you wouldn’t see Marklo tomorrow.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The thoughts wouldn’t leave. The dim, foolish hope that if you made it out of here you could live happily. If you cut your hair and got rid of the tattoos, if you stayed polite and quiet, maybe people wouldn’t recognize you. With enough time you’d fade into history and unless you came across one of those murder fanatics you were pretty sure you’d be forgotten about. </p><p>Then again, you didn’t know how much the media hyped up your capture and attacks. You couldn’t remember the last time there’d ever been an honest to god serial killer roaming around. That sort of thing just didn’t happen anymore.</p><p>You worked. Ate. And went back to your cell to read over the news pages on your violent attacks. In the courtroom you looked...not great. You were in an orange jumpsuit but around the collar of the shirt there were jagged holes. Your arms were held down with heavy cuffs, more attached to the chair and the table, your gentle smile off-putting. Your eyes were closed and you wondered why the cameraman didn’t pick a better photograph with them open. Were they hostile? Did you care so little for the lives you’d taken that they’d be hollow and empty?</p><p>You fell asleep reading over the paragraphs you’d read countless times and stuffed them all underneath your bed when you woke up to get the cart of food for the highblood.</p><p>“Not tonight.” The guard told you, pointing to a skinny troll that looked like it would attack someone at any given moment. “New guy gets Feeding.”</p><p>“Why is that?” Not that you had a problem letting someone else handle the troll, but you were curious.</p><p>The guard smiled and corralled you back toward the Blocks, “Sometimes we send them down there to teach them a little respect. It’s a punishment anyone can have.”</p><p>You watched him curse and rant, still spitting profanities when he stepped into the elevator with another officer. Well. Hopefully he wouldn’t get attacked like the others had. You hadn’t been struck by the highblood since the cart incident but you doubted anything you did would soften him up for others.</p><p>Once you were finished with your lunch you heard the troll they sent down there lost his head - quite literally - when he attacked the highblood. The new inmate tried to kick him when he was thought to be asleep and got grabbed and decapitated. The officers were complaining about having to write up the reports for death in absentia but wasn’t that for cases people went missing and they couldn’t find the body? Or something along those lines. </p><p>Getting sent down there the following night had the hairs rising on the back of your neck. The troll was growling before you even made it in the door and you hesitated. The floor had murky yellow bloodstains across the center where you’d usually roll the cart over, more trails of it splattered across the walls and deeper toward the back leading toward the massive figure. You didn’t want to get near him and settled for testing the waters with a quiet, “Hey.”</p><p>The growling softened and the highblood stirred, his two red eyes popping off in the darkness. “There you are, my Lil’ Bitch.” He closed the distance as far as he was allowed and sat down with a thump. He waved his hand as much as the chains allowed to the newer stains. “I’ve added some color since you were here last.”</p><p>“I see that.” You kept on your toes when you slowly pushed the cart closer, watchful of his posture and hands. “You actually killed him?”</p><p>He hummed. “Motherfucker tried to lay his hands on me.” You gave the cart a little push to close the distance to his hand and the sudden honk of laughter had you scampering back a foot. “Are you scared?”</p><p>Why wouldn’t you be? “You just killed someone - last night!” He made a noise like ‘and?’ while he tugged the tray closer to start eating. Was he seriously so deluded that he didn’t see a problem with it? Stepping over the tacky yellow trail you went back to your place by the door to wait. Marklo would be back tonight and you could try and find his cell to check in on him. He said he would be working during the day for once so he might be tired. </p><p>Your heart fumbled when the highblood cleared his throat, “You asked if there were cameras.” </p><p>A moment of thought and the memory came back - when you chickened out before you even asked him. You couldn’t tell him it was because you hoped to escape. The idea was still unpolished and new. You had no idea how you’d get out without getting captured again or how to live on the run. “When I was in solitary there were cameras.” You said instead, “I think it’s how they knew when I was finished eating to come get my tray.” </p><p>He muttered something low and finished, flicking the cart back in your direction. You didn’t get up to get it. It would be there when the guard came. </p><p>If, by some chance, you actually managed to get the highblood to help you perform a nigh impossible prison break, you’d also have <em> him </em> to worry about. A vague idea was that you could free him and while everyone was trying to put him back you could take the time to hop all the fences and run. However, there was nothing stopping him from killing you the second he was out. Not unless you could make a deal with him somehow and trust him to keep his word.</p><p>No. That would never happen. There was nothing you could offer him. Not yet at least. </p><p>Seeing as he took the time to actually try and start a conversation, you decided to continue talking. “How much longer do you have in here?” His eyes, now a dark hazy orange, appeared in dual slits. “I have uh...about fifty or sixty more years before I die. I’m not getting out. A friend I have has about two more years.” You hated that you picked a macabre topic but all he did was slowly blink. “You said you’d been here for four years?”</p><p>“Four <em> sweeps </em> , motherfucker,” he slowly drawled, shifting his weight noisily, “I don’t know how long your ‘years’ are but I still have a couple thousand ahead of me before I even <em> think </em>about slowing down.”</p><p>That didn’t explain anything. Sweeps couldn’t be months but they couldn’t be close to years since you doubted this monster could live that long. Maybe this was a question for Marklo - or it wasn’t important. Neither of you would be serving your full terms. </p><p>The thought struck you again and you ran your fingers over your hair to try and calm down. It was like a song stuck in your head. An itch you couldn’t scratch. “If.” You held your hand out and pointed a finger, “If there was a chance for you to get out of here where would you go?”</p><p>“This again.” </p><p>Yes, <em> again </em>. Either you stayed here and prayed for a friend or you got out there and chanced living off the grid in some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. The neighbors would be suspicious at first but you’d show them how polite and courteous you were. They’d never suspect you of being a serial killer. No one ever did. You curled your hand into a fist and knocked it against the wall behind you. “The portal you came through is guarded. More than it was when you were first put in here probably.” </p><p>“I came through it once and I’ll get through it again.”</p><p>He sounded so certain. What you wouldn’t do for a fraction of his blind confidence. “How strong do you think you are after being down here for so long?” That got his attention. “Can’t imagine you can move around much in those chains.”</p><p>His slow exhale sounded like a hiss. “As if I’d let myself get lazy down in this-“ he babbled in his language and caught himself, “Unlike your weak ass self I have been doing what I can while I’m stuck in this motherfucking box.” Judging by the black shadows of his arms and the way the chains jingled he flexed. </p><p>You wished the lighting was better to see him. What must this monster look like in daylight? Under the sun out in public instead of whisked away in the basement. “Could you escape?”</p><p>He laughed, his voice deep and gravelly. “I <em> will </em>.”</p><p>Oh that was pure determination. Either you took him at face value or with a grain of salt. He’d been down here years and as far as you knew he only broke his cuffs once. What about the mask? The rest of the bands around his body? If he could have, he would have done it already - although you doubted the highblood was all bark no bite.</p><p>He’d bit you before.</p><p>You craned your head back towards the shoddy lighting and tried to think of a different topic. You could think about the future tonight when you couldn’t sleep. “If you’re nice to me I might help clean this place up.”</p><p>As though you told a joke, the troll cackled. “Motherfucker if this doesn’t qualify as being ‘nice’ I don’t know what is.”</p><p>You shot him a flat look. “You broke half my body.”</p><p>“And? Are you dead? No.”</p><p>You jabbed a finger toward him. “You never apologized!”</p><p>“I’d have to regret what I did to <em> apologize </em>.” He said the last word as if it were slang, “And I never regret what I do.”</p><p>It had been a while since you’d been down here and now only a matter of time before the guards showed up. You cautiously went over and retrieved the cart, his eyes boring into your own when you lingered instead of instantly taking it and leaving. “My offer-“</p><p>The locks clicked and you snapped your mouth shut, backing away a safer distance before you turned your back on him. Upstairs, into the haze of chattering voices, you were redirected toward inventory and tried to keep your suspicion low while you scouted. There were several exits, two wide sliding metal gates for trucks to unload their supplies through and a few smaller exits scattered around the warehouse. You knew at least two were outside and others led to hallways and sorting, one you knew for certain since you travelled it when you dumped out all the food you wasted. Another towards the right was an office that uniformed people came and left through - once you even heard music played faintly.</p><p>When your work was finished you dipped back upstairs to your cell for a Count and stopped by the mess hall for surprisingly fresh food. Outside you stargazed but the stars seemed so much dimmer, only a few were dazzlingly bright and the moon was barely a sliver against the black.</p><p>The footsteps came quickly and you rolled away from the shoe that would have kicked you in the face if you moved a hair slower. “Fuck you, Trollhunter.” Her eyes were red, squinted in pain where she missed and kicked the wall instead. </p><p>You held up your hands placatingly and turned to the building, your heartbeat quickly thumping in your throat from how hyperalert you were listening to make sure she didn’t follow.</p><p>She was. You managed to duck twice but the next swing caught your shoulder with unsurprising strength. Her eyes were red, teeth bared and two curled sharply like snake fangs. Another quick strike to your chin almost broke your jaw but you moved with the hit, bringing up your arms.</p><p>You had practiced for this with Marklo. Defense first. Then attack. Only... no attacking - just defending. You hadn’t been training long and the pain was unbelievably distracting but you weren’t down yet. You threw your head back to get away from an uppercut but it still grazed the tip of your chin. Her claws gouged thick lines into the back of your arms and you couldn’t imagine how easily they could have carved open your chest. The realization had your feet moving on autopilot. Self preservation told you to run but the trolls behind you wouldn’t let you pass, a barrier of them surrounding the two of you to watch. They hissed and shoved you back towards her, shouting names and hyping her up.</p><p>A few even told you to fight back and kill her.</p><p>Your focus quickly faded when you blocked another damning slash and it only carved into your arms deeper. Your hands were shaking, the pain had your eyes brimming with tears and you willed them back inside your head. </p><p>The guards would watch the footage. They would see you hadn’t fought back and you wouldn’t get in trouble because <em> this </em> was your punishment.</p><p>Before you decided to make another run for it the troll was taken down by a furiously snarling guard. Another went to you and the others that arrived shouted for order, threatening them to disband or they’d mace everyone. The human officer eyed your wounds and pointed you to the infirmary.</p><p>“How many times are you going to come in here?” A nurse joked as he strapped on gloves while an officer simultaneously bound your legs against the chair. His hands were gentle and quick, cleaning out the lines and applying whatever need be. You were given several stitches to hold together the deepest of wounds and denied any medicine other than a single low-dose ibuprofen and sent back to your cell. </p><p>Marklo was already perched in the middle of your bed looking haggard and he rose to meet you. His hands went to your wrists to nudge your arms higher and he grazed the gauze gently. “You didn’t fight back again.” You didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t...you couldn’t. It would be a losing battle no matter what you did. “I was asleep but one of my friends told me what happened.”</p><p>Someone woke him up? Were they snide when they told him how you were getting carved into pieces - or maybe even excited that you were getting what you deserved? You wished you had something more for the ache of your arms but knew they’d turn you away. It wasn’t as if you had the money to buy any even if they offered it. Marklo’s hand pinched the front of your shirt and he pulled you back toward your bed. Before you could take a seat he sat down first and nudged your hips so you’d turn your back to him. </p><p>You flailed and winced when he yanked you into his lap, your legs sprawled awkwardly to the sides. This was new, usually you’d sit beside each other and on touchier days you’d lay your head down in his lap or vice versa. His hands wrapped around your stomach and he curled forward, his chest flush against your back, his face tucked into your hair. “‘M sorry I wasn’t there.”</p><p>It was spoken quietly, like a secret confession instead of an apology. You adjusted yourself on his legs and wondered if he was comfortable. It wasn’t his fault you were jumped. “You-“</p><p>“You smell like sweat.” His voice was partially muffled and he took in a deep breath, exhaling a thick sigh. “I...I’m glad you didn’t fight back.” Despite the pain and fear, being here, like this with him, made it almost worth it. You certainly felt coddled and if it were any other case you’d ask for some space because you weren’t a baby and you shouldn’t be treated like one. There was something soothing in the way you felt his slow breathing against your nape and shut your eyes to bask in the affection. It was nice to be cared and worried about. </p><p>“I know you’re tired.” You told him softly, a bubble of laughter threatening to rise when his breathing tickled the baby hairs on the back of your neck. “But I’m okay now.”</p><p>His growl caught you off guard and his loose hug turned into a tight squeeze. The quick lance of fear through your body made you want to run, “You’re clearly not. You expect me to leave when you-“</p><p>You must have jumped because he paused, a tense silence stretching out to the corners of the room. You squirmed to the side and his arms released you easily, still cupping your back should you fall off of the bed, you faced him with a little smile. His brows were drawn together and lips curled in a small frown. You wanted to cup his face but settled for taking a hold of his cooler hand. “I’m still alive aren’t I?”</p><p>Several moments passed in silence and his eyes bore into yours. Lip twitching in unspoken words, his fingers curled around your own and he peered down at your point of contact thoughtfully. He slipped his hand out from yours and spread your fingers apart, still watching silently, his thumb grazed over the black band around your wrist. “I suppose it would take a lot more to kill you, Trollhunter.”</p><p>His tone changed in a way that rubbed you wrong. He didn’t sound irritated, or upset, just thoughtful. You couldn’t pinpoint why but you felt like you’d said the wrong thing. You mentally backpedalled to find a reason. You were being honest. He couldn’t do anything for you. His presence was enough to keep others at bay but he couldn’t always be with you. Until you gained an intimidating reputation or followed through with your <em> pipedream plan </em> you’d just have to put up with this. This wasn’t even like it was the first time this happened.</p><p>Marklo was starting to move out from underneath your legs and you couldn’t shake the dread that something shifted. Whatever it was teetered delicately and you cringed when your hand snapped out to grab him, the muscles in your forearm cramping. He was kind enough to pause but if he wanted to leave you both knew you couldn’t stop him.</p><p>“Humans...you might do the same thing but sometimes humans show affection with a…” He looked on edge. You had already told him how much you appreciate him and put your hand on his shoulder. Maybe it was time for a different approach? Or an <em> additional </em>approach. “Can I do something?”</p><p>Three seconds passed before he gave a single nod. Shouldering aside the uncertainty in your guts, you reached up to cup his cheeks as you wanted to before and pulled him down. His hair was rough and course, unruly the most right around his ears. Before you could chicken out you planted a very small, very light kiss at the top of his forehead and let him go. </p><p>This could have been a mistake. You had never gotten handsy with him unless he started but maybe that was a problem. Maybe if you took initiative more often you wouldn’t have felt that uncertainty as you had before. Maybe moirails didn’t do this type of thing. Marklo slowly pulled himself back, sitting straighter to peer down at you with pupils so blown it was only a sliver of dark green and pale yellow. You knew any confusion would be cleared up if you explained yourself so with a light cough you began to speak. </p><p>“Thanks for being here for me. I know you probably get sick of hearing it but thanks.” You motioned to your throbbing arms and ran your fingertips around the gauze. “We can’t do anything about this anymore. It’s done. I appreciate you keeping an eye out on me but I’d appreciate it more if you got some sleep.” He looked tired, hair still unkempt, focused but eyes half-lidded. He needed someone to watch out for him too so you offered a smile. “You’re gonna get out of here one day. You have to look out for yourself too and you have to keep in top shape so you can do whatever they ask. That way, you can shove it in their faces how good you’re being and they’ll let you out of here sooner.” You huffed out a bitter laugh. “Kind of like what I told you I was doing when we first met.” </p><p>He still had a future. The idea of him leaving was haunting and threatened to make you bawl at night but the idea of him getting a second chance was comforting.</p><p>His hands shot out so fast to grab your face it stung your cheeks. His face was close to yours and you made a garbled sound when he squished your face. “Are you trying to comfort me when you’re the one that just got your ass handed to you?” His squishing grip didn’t give you a chance to answer and he blew out a soft laugh. “You son of a bitch.”</p><p>This felt familiar. More of a steady ground that whatever you had said or done earlier to create the air between you. Your jaw was starting to hurt and you tried batting his hands away but the muscles in your forearms were weak and burning. You’d just have to put up with it. “What did I-”</p><p>He hissed and bumped your foreheads together. “Every time I think about why you’re here you always do some shit like this. ” His pupils shrank back to their normal size and he patted your legs in an unspoken request. “I’m not a fan of seeing you like this. This just means we’ll have to work twice as hard.” You pulled your legs off of him and he stood and stretched. “Tomorrow we’re using the workout equipment outside.” </p><p>You shot upright. No, not gonna happen. </p><p>He read the blatant panic on your face and dismissed it just as quickly, “It’ll be fine. We can talk about it tomorrow.”</p><p>No amount of calling after him had him coming back. As if you hadn’t already thought of all the terrible ways that could go wrong. You’d tell him as much tomorrow.</p><p>You slept through the day and at night you woke up to a sharp and dull pain in your arms. If you picked up anything heavier than your pillow your grip threatened to give so pushing the cart was a true struggle. You were sent down alone as you always were so between the weight of the door, your mangled arms, and the cart being weighed down by all of the food the highblood didn't deserve, it required a bit of time and effort.</p><p>Once you managed to get the cart and yourself inside, you gave yourself a bit to catch your breath. “Did you kill ‘em?”</p><p>You groaned and saw the highblood shambled over, the chains clinging musically behind him. You didn’t even have to speak first. He started the conversation. He must have been in a good mood. “What?”</p><p>“Your arms motherfucker. Got them all wrapped up and shit. You got into a fight and now I’m asking you if you killed them.” His attitude told you he was being demeaning, talking to you as though you were slow. </p><p>You pushed the cart over and used your foot to nudge it the last few inches of grabbing range. “How do you know? I could have been taking something out of the oven and burned myself.”</p><p>“Didn’t know human fire drew blood.” You paused at that and checked the gauze. You couldn’t see anything stained. The nurse had done a good job of pulling the flesh back together. “I can smell it.” Oh what the hell. “Your disgusting mutant blood.” Whether the slow gulp of his soup was intentional or not, his eye contact certainly was unnerving. </p><p>You wanted to call bullshit but this troll was in a league of his own. It could have very well been possible. “I didn’t kill anyone.”</p><p>“Stupid fucking weak ass-“ he started eating and grumbled between bites, wholly uncaring of the way half of his food was spilled in the floor. </p><p>The audacity of this monster. He didn’t even ask what happened - only if you committed a murder. “I can’t just kill people.”</p><p>“You could if you weren’t a little bitch.”</p><p>You sneered at that. There was no talking to him. You wouldn’t be like him. “So what do you even do down here?”</p><p>He didn’t answer until he was finished eating. You weren’t sure if he was being rude or if you considered he wasn’t talking with his mouth full was polite. The fact that he made you wait so long did grind on your nerves regardless of the truth. His tongue moved wetly in his mouth and he flipped open the side of the cart to peer inside. There was nothing there. “I try to get out of these chains.”</p><p>Every day? He held up the cuffs as an example and with startling speed, snapped his arm out. The room itself seemed to shake at the impact of being drawn to its limit and you flinched at the hard crash of metal on metal. Well, if he did this every day then he was getting some kind of exercise. Arm-wise at least. “You only broke them once?”</p><p>“Twice.” He hissed out a bitter sound and settled on the floor. “The first time they brought some thinner ones and I snapped those motherfuckers into pieces and used the ends to beat their asses into paste.”</p><p>You only stared and tried desperately not to make that mental image.</p><p>“Made some miraculous abstract on these walls.” He sighed as if he were reliving a fond memory and you tried to think of a new topic. “Second time was to grab that low blood that thought he could put his hands on me. I took his-“</p><p>You saw the stains. You didn’t want to hear anymore. “What about your helmet?”</p><p>He paused. His body rose slowly and he rolled his head, his neck popping quietly as he worked out the kinks. “Not yet.” You squinted toward the restraints and figured the cuffs were too thick to let him reach any of the latches or joints on the other side. The massive collars around his throat probably helped keep it strapped in as well. You couldn’t tell at all from this position and you weren’t about to get closer. </p><p>You understood the chains and the collars, it would be for the safety of everyone if he had restricted movement. The helmet was a little confusing. Maybe if he bit people - which you wouldn’t put it past him - a muzzle would suffice. They might have already tried it and he kept escaping? “Why’d they put you in it?” Just enough space for his eyes and a section for his mouth...what monster was behind the mask? Was he scarred up to hell and back? Were there more fangs or tusks you didn’t know about? Maybe another set of eyes? </p><p>“How about you take it off of me and find out?”</p><p>You curled your upper lip, “We both know you’ll kill me the second I get close enough.”</p><p>His eyes widened a fraction, “I could have killed you plenty of times motherfucker.” He tried with the cart - you had to retrieve it every time the guard came and he could keep it close to himself to lure you deeper into the room. Any of those times including now he could have lashed out. </p><p>No. You wouldn’t be getting anywhere near him unless there was a way to defend yourself. The tiny shiv in the corner of the room wouldn’t do anything against a beast like him. “You waited until I told you I wasn’t going to fight to grab me before. I came close to you plenty of times earlier than that and you didn’t grab me.” He was a snake in the grass ready to strike at any moment. “You’ll try again eventually.”</p><p>His head bobbed to the side and he straightened suddenly, bursting into laughter. It was rough, cruel like he was laughing at some stupid dark humored joke no one else thought funny. “Didn’t realize humans could carry a grudge.”</p><p>Did he just not think you were capable of it? Did he see humans as such lesser creatures they wouldn’t have the mental function to remember and learn? You almost wished you hadn’t given him his food tonight. His attention went back to the cart, then onto you. His eyes narrowed in a smirk as he sat down beside the cart and you curled your hands into fists - quickly uncurling them at the pain that shot up your forearm. </p><p>“You’re a feisty motherfucker, you know that?” He twisted his wrist and curled his fingers toward himself, “Come over here and let me see how you fight.”</p><p>Molten indignation shot through you. “You killed a troll for almost touching you!”</p><p>“I don’t expect you to touch me, you little <em> shit </em> ,” he hissed, drawing himself larger, “I just want to see how you <em> fight </em>. You said they accused you of killing trolls but looking at your scrawny ass self I don’t believe you can do much of anything.”</p><p>You lingered for a moment and tried to see his angle. He already knew you weren’t going to best him in battle. He’d seen you practice down here. “What do you want me to do?”</p><p>You followed his instructions to practice on the cart - which you only got once you quickly dove forward and snatched, fleeing back to the other side of the room while he didn’t move an inch and guffawed. You set the dishes into the floor and gave it a lackluster kick. He thoroughly insulted you for the attempt and only when you managed to knock it on its side did he grumble about how marginally better it was. As if you were fighting off some lame injured animal. Your kick couldn’t do anything. He snarked about how you could get knocked over with a strong breeze and you went to work taking out your frustration on the cart until it got lodged into the corner and every shrill bang made your ears ring.</p><p>You stopped to catch your breath and the door locks hissed. Gathering up the cart and putting all of the dishes back onto the top, you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder at the highblood on the way back upstairs. Laundry work went by quickly and the only excitement was when one of the newer inmates added too much of the detergent and bubbles started pouring from all points of the machine. </p><p>You waited in line for your food and sat down, blood pumping when footsteps quickly came up on your right and a tray was practically tossed beside yours. “So tonight we’re-” you could have strangled Marklo. “Don’t look at me like that. Tonight we’re working outside with the weights.”</p><p>“I’m not doing it.” You very calmly and quietly explained what a horrible idea that was. You were in front of others. You had an audience. You would blatantly show off how weak you really were compared to them. </p><p>“Okay but what if they think your weakness is just an act? I know I would.” He scooped a spoonful of mashed vegetable into his mouth and propped his elbows on the table. “We can do the smaller weights first and I’ll do them with you. We can work out together.” </p><p>You tore apart a piece of bread into little chunks to do something with your hands. He didn’t get it. “What part of ‘you guys are so much stronger than I am’ do you-”</p><p>His hand clasped your shoulder. “I’ve thought about this already. You come out there and we grab some weights to work out. We do the same amount and then we leave to stare at the sky because it’s what you always do and we go back inside until it’s time to go back to bed. No one thinks anything of it because we’re both doing them.”</p><p>You stopped eating and straddled the bench to face him head on. “And what’s stopping them from using the weights as a weapon? Or challenging me to see how strong I’m getting?”</p><p>“I’ll be right there with you.” His certainty was endearing but you knew better. “We can do it on the nights I’m actually here and on the ones where I’m out you can just...do whatever it is you normally do when I’m not around.” </p><p>Typically you stay out of sight for fear of getting jumped. “I don’t know…”</p><p>“We’ll give it a shot and if it doesn’t work out we can go back to sparring in your room.” He shrugged. “We won’t know until we try.”</p><p>You argued a bit more until he threatened to eat your food if you didn’t and headed outside. This was a wretched idea. A horrible plan that would only end in you getting attacked yet again. The thought had you coming to a stop in the middle of the courtyard while Marklo ventured forward with little care. He wasn’t the one getting punched or kicked. He had thicker skin and who knows how much experience in fighting. He wouldn’t even be here some days because he was out there doing volunteer work - whatever that included. He didn’t speak much about it now that you thought about it. It couldn’t have been a hard job if they gave it to the more well-behaved inmates.</p><p>“Trollhunter?” Marklo backtracked and grasped your wrist. “Come on. It’s right there.”</p><p>He didn’t see the danger in this. You stood your ground when he gave a little pull. “How many times do you expect me to be okay with getting the shit beat out of me?”</p><p>It came out before you could catch yourself and Marklo reared back a fraction. His hand slipped from yours and he snagged your shoulder, pulling you toward the livelier section of the courtyard. “If we get this rolling you won’t ever have to be okay with it.” He swung around to sling an arm around your shoulders and dipped his head, “And don’t look like I’m forcing you into this. You want to put on a good show for the others, don’t you?”</p><p>You wanted to snap at him but people did start to notice. You ventured forward and wiped your face clear of any doubt or fear. Marklo stepped past three of the burliest trolls on the weight benches and snagged two dumbbells. They didn’t seem to care about him. Two were covered in scars from head to toe, one had a normal eye and the other was like a black abyss that you hoped was a prosthetic. The one with a singular eye didn’t have any scarring but he was built like a brick house, all bulging muscle and white designs on his arms like tattoos. Everyone was staring at you.</p><p>“Here.” Marklo returned just as quickly and held out one of the weights, “We can work out over here for now.”</p><p>You reached out to accept one and bit back a yelp. “<em> Did you bring me a fifty-pound dumbbell </em> ?” Oh god. Your forearms were shaking. Your fingers were suddenly sweaty. You thinned your lips and shot him the most incredulous look you could manage. “Are you <em> insane </em>?”</p><p>He seemed to realize the problem and grimaced. “Oh.”</p><p>Oh? You couldn’t very well give it back to him now. Not without obviously proving that you couldn’t handle the weight - but your arms. They <em> burned </em>. With a slow shut of your eyes you braced yourself for a horrible night and opened them with a slow drag of air. “How many do you want me to do?”</p><p>His deep frown wrinkled the skin near his chin. Marklo slowly shook his head, “We can do ten-”</p><p>“How many did you plan for me to do?” You cut him off sharply.</p><p>You rearranged the weight to hold onto it better and saw him take a seat on one of the few open benches. “I...hoped we could do at least fifty…”</p><p>You took a seat beside him. “You better use both your hands to hold onto this because I can’t use just one.” He mumbled out a strained apology and you dipped your head to him. “Do you want me to count or do you want to do it?”</p><p>Working out was the worst thing you could do. Your arms shook and there was nothing you could do about that. The extra strain caused your stitches to pop or tear or <em> something </em> but whatever it was that happened under there caused you to start bleeding. Marklo whispered that you didn’t actually have to do this and you blurted in a loud voice that you did want to do this and he should keep counting. </p><p>By the time you were at fifty you had blood stains on your pants and shirt, more on the upper part of your sleeve where you lifted the weight over your head to work out all sections of your arms. Marklo took the weights back to their designated area and led the way back to your cell. You wanted to sleep. You worked out. Completely shredded your forearms and even now the bleeding didn’t stop. There was enough that the guards took notice and dragged you to the infirmary through sheer obligation.</p><p>More stitches and a harsh lecture about not doing stupid stuff to waste their supplies on and you were sent back to your cell.</p><p>Marklo ducked his head when you approached. “Maybe...you had a point. I should have taken your concern into consideration a bit more. I’m...sorry.” </p><p>You curled up onto your bed in the space behind him and faced the wall. </p><p>“When your arms get better we can go back to training here. We don’t have to go out in front of everyone anymore if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Your arms were still trembling from the effort. Your shoulders burned and even if you weren’t out there long you were going to pay for your training later. You’d feel the burn when you woke up.</p><p>“On the bright side you did look a little badass working out with all the blood. I’m just saying.”</p><p>You craned your neck to look back at him and saw his guilty hope. His intentions were good, even if the actions failed miserably. “How badass?”</p><p>“A little less from all the shaking but still,” he fumbled with his fingers before he made an ‘ok’ sign and clicked his tongue, “Pretty badass.”</p><p>The compliment was nice and while it didn’t make up for your current pain or future suffering, you pinched the skin on his side under his shirt and listened to him yelp. Turning back around you settled in for the night and heard him say, “We’ll figure out something.”</p><p>The small mattress crinkled when he stretched out and teetered on the edge. “Do you want to talk about what you said in the courtyard?” No you didn’t. “You…” you reached out blindly and put your finger over his lips to silence him. He hummed and was nice enough to stay quiet when you let your arm drop back onto the mattress.</p><p>You didn’t want to talk. You just wanted to lie here and think about nothing in particular.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You guys ever try to work out your arms and after ten or so pushes/pulls you get that feeling like they suddenly weigh twice as much? Haha, that feeling SUCKS and when the gyms open back up I'm going to have to deal with that again and I'm not looking forward to it (੭ ‾᷄ᗣ‾᷅ )੭</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Conversation of Sorts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You discover more about the prison, reach your limit, and talk to the Highblood about the impossible.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's felt like ages since I updated - I want a vacation so I can write LOL</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Months had passed sluggishly. Eventually you’d head out to the training section to work out with Marklo but most of the time you sparred with him in your cell or his. You bulked up a small bit, which was saying something considering you were finally changing the body you’d been dumped in when you woke up after your murdering spree. You didn’t talk about it much anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d get attacked when Marklo was absent but you’d learn to avoid most of the punches and a few of the kicks. If there were multiple you’d be taken back to the infirmary and checked for broken bones or bandaged up where a looming guard would stare you down as if you would ever misbehave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were gifted another job since you didn’t fight back after a certain amount of beatings: hydroponics. You got to tend to the plants and check on their health, off in another section of the prison you hadn’t been before. In a greenhouse-like room with a fully functional water system hanging over little cabbages and alien plant life, you picked out any of the wilting or dying plants and went to work replanting for those that were harvested. You didn’t know where these went considering you hadn’t come across them in the kitchen but it was nice to be able to do something new. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo told you there were four main buildings that made up the prison and the Cell Blocks were one of them. Section A was for administration and officers, for their supplies, training, lunch room and such. It’s where their computers and files resided and prisoners passed through if they came or went from the facility. Section B was the Cell Blocks and you knew it consisted of the basement, the guards observation room - on both floors you found out - the laundry room and inventory. Section C was for all of the other recreational activities you were just now learning about, such as a break room with a television and board games, a library, hydroponics, record keeping, vehicle maintenance, construction and so much more. Surprisingly, it was also where the more mentally unstable inmates lived that required a bit more care and attention. Marklo didn’t know what was in Section D and it seemed like no one else did either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were still the main deliveryman for the troll in the basement. Rarely the officers would send down the most unruly newcomer and they’d come back sporting new scars and obedience towards the guards. You’d heard ‘like seeks like’ as an explanation regarding how you’d managed to avoid getting torn apart for so long. No one knew the highblood spoke. Everyone still believed him to be the deranged monster they remembered hearing about back on their home world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they’d be right. He was still as psychotic and unhinged as you heard the stories to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” you seethed at the giant idiot, “if I fight I get put back into solitary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d been having this argument a lot lately and you didn’t know if you were just getting sick of having it or angry that he kept asking you to kill. You were already starting to get tense. Marklo was getting hours and days shaved off of his sentence and he’d be out of here by the end of the year. You’d been with him for almost a year and a half at this point. Basically since you came here sans about one month. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d grown attached to him more than you could imagine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who gives a fuck about that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You doubted you’d survive isolation a second time. The memory made your skin crawl. “I don’t want to turn out like you.” That snip made him snarl and you crossed your arms over your chest, thinking about how easily he was willing to hurt others. You wouldn’t snap like him. You refused to become a loose cannon. “What makes you think you wouldn’t be the first person I’d take revenge on?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you could you would have done it already.” The implication that you starving him wasn’t a form of payback irritated you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d cleaned a lot of his cell. Mop, bucket, and bleach style, to really work out all the stains and grime. The guard - a new one who hadn’t known what you’d done to the highblood - told you his room was filthy and it was now your job to clean it up. He stayed with you for several cleaning sessions while the troll grumbled and snarled. Eventually you were sent down there with all the supplies and left alone, now getting the misfortune of hearing him complain about the ‘wickedly unholy stank’ of the cleaning solution as you mopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He noticed your newest bandages, this time around your chin and neck, and hopped onto the same conversation you had every time you showed up injured. Kill them and forget about the consequences. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You rolled your eyes and continued scrubbing, wishing for something other than a mop to get in between the tiles. You’d been at this for days and progress was unbearably slow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you won’t fucking do it.” He ducked his head closer to your position but you knew by now he couldn’t reach you, “Cause you’re a motherfucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>coward</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stopped cleaning, leaning on the mop you waved your hand between the two of you. As if he thought you’d be so foolish as to give him another chance to end your life. “You know, if you kill me you’ll have no one to talk to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you have shit-all to say in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pressed your lips together and turned back around to pick up where you left off. He let out a harsh scoff and a huff of realization. There was little else beyond the wet slapping of the mop onto the tile floor and the sudsy popping of the bubbles. It would take you a while to clean this entire room or get the parts higher up on the walls or on the ceiling itself. Unless they did something about the troll you couldn’t get the bloodstains that were within his reach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Occasionally you would have to get close to him when he was being selfish pushing back the cart, watching with half-lidded eyes as you were ordered to wander within grabbing range when the guard came down to retrieve you. You didn’t feed him the next day whenever he played coy. You still remembered the agony of your bones breaking, the sickening churning in your stomach at the sheer amount of pain and therapy you had to go through to get yourself in working order. The metal installed in your mouth and welded to your bones to hold them together, the lingering stiffness in your limbs as you tried to work out the atrophy of your muscles...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never lashed out again after the cart incident and perhaps forcing you to come closer was him showing you that he could refrain from throwing you around like a child and a new toy. The only thing it did was give you nightmares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smell was making you dizzy as it always had and you took a break on one of the cleaner portions of the floor. There was no air coming in or leaving the room so if the stench was able to steal your breath you could only imagine what it was doing to him since he couldn’t leave like you would in half an hour.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name, Lil Bitch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the stinging to fade. It seemed like he couldn’t handle the silent treatment. You told him what your name used to be and corrected yourself, “Not like anyone calls me that anymore, though. They call me Trollhunter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trollhunter...” He drawled the word and made a low trilling sound in the back of his throat. “You already know who I am though, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You knew what he was. “I guess. They mostly call you ‘highblood’ but Marklo thinks you’re someone called the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grand </span>
  </em>
  <span>Highblood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know who that is but he’d be right.” His tone shifted to hostile by the way his pitch dropped, “The Grand - motherfucking - Highblood.” He suddenly snorted and started rambling on in his first language and you toned him out, tucking your chin to your chest to focus on your breathing. You really hated all this bleach. It couldn’t be good for your lungs. “-even listening to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You hissed, wrenching your head up and feeling the room spin, “Because I don’t know what the hell you’re saying. What language is that? Trollish?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spluttered, rearing his head back so the tips of his horns scraped against the ceiling. “Yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know Trollish!” You threw your hands up, “It all just sounds like growling and clicking!” You honestly couldn’t tell where one word began and another ended. You got to your feet and pressed the back of your wrist against your eyes. “How do you even know english?” His snarl washed about the room like a fog and you sighed. “Whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going back to work was a pain. Your eyes were burning again, your head muddled and cloudy, nausea was kicking in. The door couldn’t open soon enough and you quickly rolled the bucket of solution outside of the room and returned for the cart. The highblood had it near his bent legs and you sighed, “Please just push it closer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never spoke when others were around. His eyes narrowed and you worked up the courage to retrieve the handle, scurrying back despite the fact he hadn’t moved an inch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upstairs you poured out everything and cleaned your tools, hanging them up for drying. You were gifted ear plugs and went to work making licenses, the process so typical at this point you worked on autopilot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was tedious. The working. The occasional beatings. The food. Everything was the same and your only silver linings were your arguments with the highblood - The Grand Highblood - as if titles really mattered now - and your time with Marklo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You eventually told him about your plans to flex on all these bullies and he only encouraged it. He wouldn’t hold back during play fights and made up for it by working out the kinks in your back in the showers. You learned a bit more about him through your heavier confessions. He almost killed the cops he fought with and it was the sheer number of assaults that sent him here. He liked having his head rubbed right around his horns and there was a spot just under those external ribs - the grub scars, he called them - that had him purring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You discovered that all trolls could purr. He told you as much when you made fun of him for it. They clicked and trilled and made all sorts of sounds too low for your ears. They could have different types of ears and eyes as well, some like rams and others like snakes, a majority slitted like cats that would shrink and dilate depending on the time of day and mood. You weren’t sure if he was hamming it up when he told you very rarely some would be born with wings or tails, or fins if they were sea-dwellers. You didn’t believe a troll that came from a grub could somehow turn sea born but you didn’t argue. It was after he told you there were different ways for trolls to be born you sort of toned him out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It brought up another question, though, something you remembered a while back and never got an answer for. “You said uh, trolls don’t have segregated bathrooms?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? I mean we kind of do but it’s not as important as it seems to be for you guys.” He lazily flipped to the next page of some cosmopolitan magazine and shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You waited for him to follow up with an explanation so you wouldn’t have to ask. Unfortunately, he seemed to think that was it and continued reading the article. “Why is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you guys care about it more than we do? I dunno, that’s a ‘you’ kind of question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, you said all trolls have the same parts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah. We do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He went back to reading and you knew you honestly had no business asking. You still hoped he would tell you, though. “That’s… different.” All he did was hum in agreement. You wanted to scream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t bring it up again and lived with the curiosity until it faded from your mind. The most you’d ever done was slap his butt in the shower when he dropped the soap and you never did it again after he laughed and playfully tried to return the act. You couldn’t sit right for days after that. Troll smacks were devastating and you paid the price with sweat and tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were forced to spend overnight in the infirmary when you got shanked with a bit of broken pipe during your cleanup one night. They thought you were alone but Marklo decided to stick around and help shovel towels into the massive rolling hamper in the showers. You had been walking around a corner and suddenly you were grabbed and there was pain. Straight into your stomach you dropped to your knees and watched as blood poured out from between your fingers, watery eyes turned up toward Ermusa and her friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo came in as soon as they’d left and carried you to the guards, his hands shaking beneath your shoulders and behind your knees. You didn’t know how long you’d be there bleeding out if he didn’t come looking for you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When you were discharged he was in isolation along with Ermusa and Ovrett. One of his friends told you he confronted them and started a fight, refusing to back down even after the guards warnings and intervention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You told all of this to the Grand Highblood when you went down there next, anger and frustration only increasing when you saw the new bloodstains. You’d have to mop the spot again to get rid of the orange-brown and the pain in your gut hadn’t lessened since you returned. It hurt to remain standing for long and you took more breaks than you usually had. “Is this the same motherfucker that’ll be headin’ out soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He told me since it was one of his first fights in a long time they’ll just give him a warning so he’ll still be on track to leave.” The water was already starting to get murky, you hadn’t even been working for that long. Deciding you might as well try to get more use out of it you tipped aside the bucket to drown the stains in the solution to set.  You wondered if you could just ask for some paint so you wouldn’t have to bother with the walls or ceiling. “If you have to attack whoever comes in here, can you not be so messy about it?” Maybe you could barter with the psychopath to refrain from doing whatever violent impulse crossed his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” You figured as much. “Don’t get yourself all fucked up and shit and I won’t have to. Only have to deal with the lowbloods when you don’t show up.” He was in the middle of eating something covered in what you hoped was sauce but knew it was probably some animal blood. What the hell was that anyway? “Pisses me off that you whine about everything but don’t do anything about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You threw the mop on the floor as hard as you could. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot handle isolation!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Humans aren’t like you! We have to be around other people or we’ll go insane!” He slowly blinked and you snatched the mop and threw it at him. It was easy for him to smack aside but he snarled when the wet end whipped around to slap his shoulder. “You know what pisses </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>off? You keep telling me to fight back knowing I’ll get punished for it and then get mad when I’m not here! If I fight back you’ll just have to deal with the ‘lowbloods’ and I have to clean up the mess you made! You think I like being here?!” Your voice cracked at the end when your volume rose to a shriek, throat catching from how high you screamed. “I’m tired of this place! I’m tired of </span>
  <em>
    <span>cleaning up after you</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I’m tired of-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His roar made your ears ring. He puffed himself up and his blazing red eyes narrowed into terrifying slits. “Then stop fucking whining and do something about it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was stupid. You were so angry, nothing but pent up emotions coursed through your body you dove for the mop and swung it like a baseball bat. You poured everything you had into that swing. Whatever feelings manifested from the worry and guilt and confusion at Marklo’s easy attitude in fighting on your behalf. On the injustice of this place. You were tired of getting tired and beat up and you were sick of everything. Yourself, the situations - but most of all the Highblood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You should have expected him to fight back. He tore a troll apart for almost kicking him and here you were trying to beat him with a mop. His hand caught the wooden handle and clenched around the rod fast enough that it made you stumble. The realization that you were right upon this monster - this demon - and he could do anything he wanted to you before you could get away washed away every bitter emotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly lowered his head down to yours and hummed in a tone so low you felt it like a subharmonic rumble. His face was only about a foot from yours and this close you could see how thick the helmet was, there was a crosshatching of some other type of metal woven with the off-colored silver. “If you’ve got the gall to strike me…” This was it. You were dead. Phantom aches went through your limbs at the memories. He drew back a fraction and scanned you from head to toe, “You should have no problem putting them in their places.” His fingers unfurled from the wooden rod one-by-one and when he withdrew out of your personal space it was like he took the paralyzing fear with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your hands were shaking beyond your control. You took a step back and then another, wielding the now broken mop on your blind walk until your back hit the locked door. Even if you were at a safe enough distance nothing felt safe anymore. You needed to be farther. You needed to be upstairs and never come down here again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spread his arms out as wide as he was able with the restraints and laughed, “See? I can be...what did you say before? Fuckin’ amicable.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You weren't dead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed perfectly fine with the silence that followed and you barely had the sense to gather the bucket and the cart when the guard came to get you. Upstairs you worked in a haze plucking dead leaves and checking over the vegetables, skipping lunch to curl up in your cell to think about how close you were to death again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed dipped almost two hours later and you reached out blindly to hold onto Marklo’s jumpsuit. You remained in your curl facing the wall and wished he’d join you just for a little bit. “He almost got me again. I wasn’t paying attention and he...he grabbed the mop but he didn’t…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His body was </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you turned as he asked, “He didn’t what?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maryon. He hadn’t shown up in your view since his failed attempt at framing you. His little group had been lying low after Marklo dealt with them and you believed they’d grown tired of messing with you. You released him and spun around, perched upright on your bed with your knees bent near your chest, prison issued socks on the sheets. His eyes were a dark orange and his tone casual, “Go on, Trollhunter. I’m listening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your attention darted from him to the cell doors. Maryon shuffled. “What are you doing here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t have time for this. You made a dive for the doors but he was already upon you. He grabbed your arm and slammed you back towards him into the wall, black dots sprinkling your vision when your head bounced off of the concrete. His punch snapped your nose and had your vision swirling when you were jammed into the space between your wall and the bed. No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t survive the highblood again to get beaten up by this asshole. You lashed out and went for his throat, digging your fingers as hard as you could into his neck and squeezing. Your hands fumbled against his arm to fight him off but his other hand was free to bash the side of your head in. Everything was moving, jerking from one side to the other, it was hard to focus. You heard the cell door slam shut distantly and this felt uncomfortably familiar. The helplessness and pain. The fear. The rage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You started screaming. The exact reason beyond you but the sound came out raw and brutal to your own ears. You tried kicking. Jabbing your feet into his stomach you actually managed to get both underneath him and shove him off. He slipped back from the bed and into the floor with a thump and you dove for the doors, fumbling with the latch to get it open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You ducked in time for him to snatch the bars instead of your head or shoulders and spun around, throwing your fist as hard as you could right between his legs. For some reason, it wasn’t as debilitating as you hoped but he did make a nasty shout of pain. His hands went around your neck and your feet were whisked from the ground as he forced you higher, the weight of your own body crushing your throat alongside his grip. You clawed at his arms until his blood caked under your fingernails. Spittle dripped from the corner of your lips and you knew he was speaking but you couldn’t process any of the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t look down at him. His grip wouldn’t let you. You curled your body and kneed him in the chest but nothing worked. His claws sank into your skin and you gave one final thrash, pulling your legs up as high as they’d go and using his own body for lower support to practically bend yourself in half. You managed to get one leg high enough and held onto his arms, stomping your foot where you hoped his head would be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grip loosened. Your heel made contact with something and you bashed your foot forward again, lungs and gut aching from your painful curl. One of his hands tried releasing your throat to grab at you but it gave you just enough maneuverability to duck your head just in time. You sank your teeth into his fingers and felt bones crunching in your jaw. Warmth flooded your mouth, a sickly copper tang and something else equally disgusting, and you gnashed down into the skin hard enough your ears popped. He yanked himself back and pulled you along with him, both of you falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. You kept kicking, holding onto one of his arms with both hands and keeping your bite strong enough to remain latched around one of his knuckles to keep him from getting away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, between your saliva and the blood, his hand slipped out of your mouth. Your teeth snapped shut hard enough it felt like you’d broken them. Maryon was quick to get to his feet and you fumbled along after him, the world still bouncing and jittering, your muscles twitching randomly thanks to the fuzz in your skull from all the blows. He went low this time and you grabbed onto his horn at the last moment, aiming it away from your stomach to keep from getting gutted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were growing tired. His claws raked lines across your lower back and you tried flipping him over, socks slipping all across the tile floor without anything to push off from. He tossed you to the side as if you weighed nothing and you managed to drag the hem of his shirt up and over his head during the throw. You caught yourself on the unused dresser, the edge smashing into your ribcage painfully. Even if your little stunt only bought you seconds of time, you were able to wiggle out of your socks when he ripped his shirt off and tossed the clothing to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of you stared at each other for a moment, chest heaving, bloodied and panting. “Fuck you.” You told him, spitting his blood out of your mouth at his feet. He came for you again and you caught his hands in your own during his rush, your body bending back at an awkward angle between him and the dresser. He ducked his head to your neck and you barely managed to avoid getting your trachea torn out. Instead, his fangs grazed the bottom of your chin and pinched the skin just enough to draw blood. You pushed at his hands and pulled, doing anything you could to hold onto them so he couldn’t choke you out as he did before. You didn’t have the energy to best him again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another kick to the groin worked partially, and you got a knee between your bodies so you could try and get some air when he recoiled. You were breathing too hard to call out for help and unless the guards were nearby - </span>
  <em>
    <span>where were they surely they would have shown up by now</span>
  </em>
  <span> - no one would aid you. Marklo was doing volunteer work and it wasn’t like his friends cared enough about you to intervene. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of his hands got free and the punch to your head pushed you to your limit. It was hard to think. Hard to hold onto him. You dropped and swayed on the ground, blood pumping in your ears like drums. It sounded as though Maryon were laughing from another room, muffled and distant. You made two grabs for your bed before you actually touched it and got to your feet. You teetered and saw a hazy image of him gesturing, his mouth open wide to shout but everything meaningless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A final attempt to the door and you got it open, stumbling through to lean on the railing of the second floor. You were going to make a dash toward the guards but Maryon spun you around and crowded you against the railing, his nose bloodied and eyes wild. He held onto your chin and his mouth moved like an old fashion movie. No sound. Just static and poor visual quality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoved your head to the side and stepped back, letting you slump and hold onto the safety rails to keep from collapsing. You drooled onto the floor and shut your eyes. You just needed to alert one of the guards. That was the key to ending all of this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maryon’s hands went around your body and picked you up. You were slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you felt your calves knock into the top of the metal railing. Your fingers curled through the loops of his pants when he threw you forward and you kicked out wildly, the backs of your knees hooking behind the metal supports with the top of your ankles hooked around a lower rail. The world flipped upside down and you were glad you were able to drag him along with you. He tried grabbing you but only managed to snatch your shirt, tearing it in half up to the collar. Your backside cracked into the concrete foundation and railing, your knees popping from being sandwiched so suddenly and bent at an odd angle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You dangled upside down and watched him strike the floor in an awkward position. It wouldn’t kill him. It was only one floor. Trolls were built of sturdier stuff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You let yourself hang there with your arms flopped above your head, peering through the tattered remains of your shirt at the curious crowd that gathered. With not a quiet groan of exertion you managed to get yourself upright and clamber up and over the side to safety. You sank to the ground and shut your eyes, soaking in the cold tile against your sweaty body. The ground vibrated as multiple feet rushed to your position and you were out like a light by the time someone tried getting you to stand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the infirmary. Heavily bandaged, but whole and alive, a troll that could have very well been the head warden told you they’d send you back to isolation since you fought but because you weren’t the one to instigate they wouldn’t ship you out to a supermax prison. You weren’t sure if it was considered a win. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stared up at the ceiling of your solitary room and luckily spent the first several hours sleeping and recovering. When you had the misfortune of waking, all you could think about was the highblood. He told you to fight back and you did. Maryon would kill you if given the chance and there was nothing saying his goal wasn’t only cruel bullying. It...felt good to fight back. You didn’t want to kill him, no, but you were done with lying there and taking it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What would the highblood think, discovering he’d have to deal with the ‘lowblood’ trolls now that you were shoved in here for the next possible fifteen days. Would he even know or would he think you just got beaten up again and you’d have a mess of blood to clean up when you returned? What would Marklo think? He had been so proud of you not fighting back. What would he say if he heard you tossed Maryon over the side of the railing to save your own hide?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tray slid through the slot and you didn’t bother to get up and get it no matter how hard your empty stomach cramped. You slept again and when you woke up, you did the absolute minimum and craned your neck to see if the tray was there. It wasn’t. The food would probably be cold and inedible if it were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sat upright and stretched out your arms and legs carefully, rolling your shoulders and bending in half to ease out the crimped muscles along your spine. What would be the signal of your loss of sanity this time? Would you deal with it better because you’d already experienced it once before? Would it be like last time and you lose yourself to the dark place in your dreams filled with too many hands and that voice you couldn’t remember the sound of?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lounged about the day - or night - and eventually slept again, dreaming of being back home with the distant sound of cars driving along wetted blacktop, red and white lights fading in and out of your peripheral. The room you were in wasn’t exactly your old bedroom but a weird mix between your home and the prison cell, the walls concrete instead of wallpaper, the flooring bland linoleum instead of carpet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tray slid through the slot -  briefly it slid under the bottom of your bedroom door like a pancake before you woke up and actually spotted the real three-dimensional thing, and this time you did get up to eat it. You took your time savoring the bites and felt better after, granted energy you weren’t going to use for anything beyond sitting in the small room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a surprise the door opened not long after you received your third meal. You were escorted to the infirmary so they could check your bandages and then returned to your cell when they called for everyone to rise. Marklo found you instantly and instead of the worry or disappointment you expected, he appeared….alarmingly happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First, I’m glad to see you’re not dead.” You froze when he hugged you, straddling a fine line between pain and elation. “Second,” the hug ended far too quickly for your liking, “Maryon is in solitary for a few more days so you don’t have to worry about him. You beating him up brought a little bit of respect from the trolls around here. They still hate you though so don’t get cocky.” He cupped your cheeks, “Lastly.” His fingers dug harshly into your face and he came so close your noses almost touched. “Learn to pick your fights better because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying to kill you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He released your face and rubbed his forehead, “Do you have any idea how I felt when I heard Maryon planned on killing you while I was gone and I’d come back and hear my moirail was dead? Presic told me she tried getting the guards when she saw him slink into your cell but they were all busy with a fight happening in the lunchroom.” You’d recently learned Presic was the name of one of his friends here but you’d never spoken to her. Had he asked her to keep an eye on you? “She told me you looked about half-dead.” He patted your shoulders and down your body, fingering the wrap around your neck curiously. “I doubt he could have done worse than the highblood but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo perked up at the approach of the guards and huffed, “When you get done with your Purpose find me in the mess hall. We aren’t done talking about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will.” So he wasn’t upset with you as far as you could tell. Probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard letting you in the elevator have several choice words for your bad behavior and lectured you all the way down to the highblood’s cell. The troll was growling when you entered but besides shushing him you scowled at the green and red blood. “I was literally gone for three days.” The door locked behind you and you waited for him to reply. “Say something or I’m tossing your food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Two red dots swiveled to you in the dark lighting. “Where the fuck have you been?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There we go. You wheeled the cart close enough for him to grab and headed back to the door, “Isolation.” He must like living in filth since he kept making a mess of everything. He didn’t immediately go for the food. Instead choosing to watch while you struggled to get into a comfortable position. “I didn’t kill them.” You rubbed your neck, “I did fight back though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you finally found a backbone.” He snatched the cart and sat down heavily, taking a plate into his massive hands. “How’d it feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t want to say he was right. “Horrible. Look at me.” You explained what happened, pointing to your swollen face and wraps, pulling up part of your shirt to point out the last time you got stabbed and the bandage that was still taped over the spot. He ate while you told him how you almost got choked to death and trailed off. He was invested in your story. His full attention was on you and when you stopped speaking he rolled his hand for you to continue. He was only invested because of how violent the tale was, you were certain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a little awkward picking up where you left off but you poured out your relief when you explained how you weren’t the one hitting the ground. “It’d probably break my arm or something.” Almost broke your knees from getting flipped but the only thing you had was a light tendon tear and bruising. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set his plates on the cart and leaned back, a pleasant hum filling up the quiet room. “Are you sure it wasn’t worth getting your hands dirty?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It should have felt bad to do bad things but you weren’t fighting back to be malicious. You fought back so you wouldn’t get killed. You pressed down on your neck and shrugged, “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll learn.” He kicked the cart over to your side and the two of you watched it clatter over the uneven tiles. “Either you keep on fighting or you die when your little ‘friend’ leaves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You tucked your chin and grabbed your head. You didn’t want to think about it. “I’ll deal with it when I get to it.” Changing the topic would be nice. “If I get killed are you going to go back to your silent treatment?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm, I’m not gonna waste my motherfucking breath on these blasphemous chutes.” You weren’t sure about that last word but didn’t comment on it. “Only time they’re gonna hear my voice is when I bring down the utmost righteous serving of lowblood culling on this whole building and </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>nasty </span>
  </em>
  <span>human worms.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You almost bit back something about how you weren’t the one talking to shadows at night but stashed it for later. You took a different approach. “So do you have a speech prepared when you break out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I have a motherfucking speech when I…” He caught himself. “Are you fucking with me right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It took you a second but yeah. You’ve clearly thought about this a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He muttered something and shook his head. “If you aren’t dead when I bust out of here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your mood soured, “You’ll what? Kill me properly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he suddenly spat, “I’ll keep you as a pet. My own personal jester. Maybe you’ll find some </span>
  <em>
    <span>decent fucking jokes </span>
  </em>
  <span>back on Alternia and find a purpose beyond sucking all the air out of this motherfucking stale ass room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This easy banter almost felt wrong. Joking around with the monster that almost killed you. He tricked you before into coming closer and kept drawing you near by keeping the cart. He pushed it over today but what about tomorrow? When would he finally find his tolerance between talking with you and deciding you weren’t worth his time?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you break out of here I might be able to...take you to a portal. Gateway. Whatever you came through to get here.” You couldn’t help but check the corners of the room for the cameras you knew weren’t there. All you needed to know was what state you were in and a map. No, you needed much more than that. You’d need a car, money, food, a way to hide if you managed to get out of here. You didn't actually plan for this because it was never going to happen-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that an offer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You held up your hands, keeping your eyes down. “It’s a suggestion. I don’t know the whole continent but…” what were you even saying. “We’re not getting out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> may not but I will. I’m not spending my life in this shitty-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The locks hissed and you grabbed the cart, straightening up any plates that teetered on the edges. His focus was on you with an awareness you hadn’t felt in a while and you didn’t bother looking at him again on your way out of the cell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laundry duty. A call for Counts and into the mess hall you grabbed a tray and Marklo flagged you down with his own meal, leading you to one of the more vacant sides of the room. “What were we talking about last?” He was cutting straight to the chase wasn’t he.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How I should learn to pick my fights-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Because either you actually managed to fight him off and you’d been lying to me this whole time about being as weak as you are or you survived through pure luck.” He set his tray down with a harder than necessary clack. “So what is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was easy. “Pure luck.” You ducked your head as far as your neck would allow to lean closer to him, “I thought he was you and...he...or someone shut the door so I couldn’t get out.” You poked at the fresh pink loaves and your appetite faded. “He would have killed me if we hadn’t been practicing.” You bumped your shoulder against his but he didn’t move an inch, “Thanks for not giving up on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo’s hand came up the back of your neck and he gently rubbed the taut muscles. A little sigh drew your attention but he was mostly focused on his food, chewing slowly with his brows furrowed between gulps. You slowly ate, struggling to think about the taste, and eventually his hand fell away. “Do you want to hit the showers after this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t mind one way or another and told him as such. When you finished eating you headed to the lower floors and grabbed your towels along the way. He helped take the bandages off and while they’d stopped bleeding they were still tender to the touch. You prepared the water while he stripped down himself and lathered up a rag and soap, running it over your arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soft splashing of his feet against the wet tile came up from behind and you moved to the side to let him under the spray. He took the water straight to the face and stayed like that for a moment. You laughed, “Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head wildly and sprayed water everywhere. “I suppose.” He started with shampoo and began brushing out the tangles with his claws. “Tell me how you fought him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the second time that night you explained to the best of your ability what happened. Marklo’s eyes tracked every one of your wounds like a map as the events unfolded. By the end of it you were rinsing out your conditioner and he was already drying himself off. He had his own questions, like how you managed to fold yourself in two to kick him or how you could split his skin with your flimsy, blunt nails. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You redressed and halfway out of the shower stall you were grabbed and dragged back in. His arms went around your shoulders in a tight hug and he released you so you could face him. “Listen to me, Trollhunter. You have to be careful. I...I’m not going to be around here much longer. You have to stay alert and pick your friends carefully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt I’m ever going to make any friends.” You told him bluntly, “You are my one and only.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He deflated and shook his head, “If you managed to trick me into befriending you there’s a chance you’ll do it to someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was almost disgusting how quickly the highblood came to mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He bumped your foreheads together and straightened his clothes on the way out of the stall. “Anyway, lets head back to your room to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we go to yours?” You hadn’t been there in a while. Usually to spar or just talk, you wanted to see if you could get away with snooping around. Anything really, if only to lighten the mood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, “Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had posters, mostly of troll movies you’d never seen for obvious reasons. There were five in total, four of them cheesy romance movies but his excuse was that they were filled with some of the best action he’d ever seen which was why he loved them so much. The other was something akin to a real life story of a lowblood getting close to the upper class echelon before ultimately being betrayed by his best friend and brutally killed. You figured out he liked that one so much because he had a crush on the main actor and their love interest. His heavy descriptions of how they looked during some ocean scene clued you in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo all but tossed himself down on the bed and waited for you to follow suit but you took your time wandering around the little room. There was a calendar with wide-shot photographs of mountains and ravines taped up near the side of the bed, a little piece of charcoal on the dresser nearby. The dates had been smudged in and you flipped through the rest of the pages, surprised at the little notes scrawled on certain days. “Hey now, mind your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You heard him get up and avoided the first grab but you felt yourself falter when you spotted a few X markings in the later months. “Is-” You knew it was marking off the days he’d get out of here. For each good deed done and time off granted he lopped off a day. There were so many X’s on the far future dates. You let your hand flip through the few pages between then and now and sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just had a feels session.” He chided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You groaned, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>guess</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I…” You didn’t want to think about it. You never did. “I’m happy for you.” Bittersweet happiness. You couldn’t ruin the mood by being a downer. You turned toward his bed and gestured for him to get settled first. He did so with a little smile and you nudged him on his side, grinning. “I wanna look through these drawers first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you don’t!” You were arms deep in the top drawer of the dresser before he could stand and you gathered whatever you could hold onto. His arms went around your lower half and he yanked you backwards. “Trollhunter!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you even need so many clothes? You can’t even wear them here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could when he got out. Despite the grim topic you wanted to know what would happen on his end. What did he look forward to? Eating food, for one, he was tired of prison lunches. He wanted to be outside and buy furniture and bedsheets so when he had his own place it really felt like it belonged to him. He wanted to start collecting sports memorabilia because even if he didn’t understand sports he liked seeing all the different merchandise for it. Stuff like that was pretty popular when he ran his pawn shop. He was going to stick around troll populated areas, he’d already been looking for a place a couple hours from here in the city but he didn’t think the apartments would still be open by the time he got out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He liked humans well enough but he wanted to be around them on his own time. If he ever got into trouble again it’d be safer to know the troll police that worked there could handle him if he fought back. Then it would only be resisting arrest instead of battery and assault. Not that he ever planned on coming back here, he would stick to what he knew best and keep himself out of trouble. This was a long lesson learned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he asked you what you would do if you - by some chance - ever got out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You couldn’t go home. Your family would probably want nothing to do with a serial killer. It would be hard to find a job. You’d need to do something about the tattooes, live somewhere away from everyone with your head down. That fantasy of the little town in the middle of nowhere still sounded nice. Where they would be stuck in the 80’s and there’d be bratty kids working at the gas station. A plump and gruff, but fairly friendly officer would patrol in his clunker but not much happened. He’d be in love with the woman that works at the diner, who’s clearly being worked to death but she does it with a smile cause she knows every cloud has a silver lining and she’s been saving up for her sons college for ages and she feels like she’s almost saved enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You snapped yourself out of your wandering mind and told him you don’t know what you’d do. You spent the next few hours talking about nothing in particular until you got up to work on your late night janitorial duties alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next night you headed down the elevator with a yawn so strong it popped your jaw. “So-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me first, motherfucker. I want to talk.” He was already halfway to the center of the room before the door shut. His normally red eyes were a lighter copper, the reflective shines big empty discs. “Are you going to try and break out of this shithole?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nearly choked. You scoured the room as though there was someone listening in even though it had been confirmed countless times you were alone down here. The doors were thick and he hadn’t said it loud enough that it would be heard through the walls but to say it so </span>
  <em>
    <span>boldly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “No! I can’t leave here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You pushed the cart toward him and let him drag the edge closer. “There are </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many</span>
  </em>
  <span> reasons. First of all, there are at least two or three regular fences I’d have to get over. There are guards at every corner of the courtyard. I don’t know how many more in the buildings that surround us. There’s one enormous wall I know for certain I can’t climb over that I see whenever I work in the warehouse.” You should have started counting all the reasons. You might not have enough fingers for them all. “I don’t even know what state I’m in and I can’t just run away randomly I’d get caught if I came across some populated area. I’d have nowhere to go…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a loud bite. “Sounds to me like you’ve thought a whole lot about this.” He pointed the end of his bread at you and shook it, “Motherfucker, you want to break out of this joint.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna bust out this cage and get the fuck out of here!” He was cackling, hands crushing the loaf in his grip. “You’ve been scoping the place out!” He was getting so loud. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you waved your hands, shushing him desperately. “Getting intel!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up!” You hissed, flailing your arms. “Just because they don’t normally come down here doesn’t mean they can’t! These walls aren’t thick enough to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna know,” he purred in a blessedly quieter voice, “Why you’ve been coming to me about all this planning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You narrowed your eyes. You could have gone to anyone about this idea. He knew you went to Marklo for just about everything. “You’re not the only-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any one of these filthy lowbloods would rat you out to the guards and your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>pal</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he spat the word as if it disgusted him, “Is already getting out on his own so he doesn’t fucking need you.” He eyed the crushed bread in his palm and scrunched it up into a little ball, hazy eyes slowly turning back onto you. “I’m the only motherfucker that doesn’t talk to anyone and I’m the best chance you have of getting out of this place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shook your head. “Neither of us are leaving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was smiling. You couldn’t even see the rest of his face but you could feel how smug and cocky he was. He simply ate and settled down, rolling his neck until it cracked loudly. So what if he knew you were thinking about it. It was never going to happen. You couldn’t do anything and it was a fact he certainly wasn’t capable of escaping. If he ever wanted to get out of here you’d have to free him and you already tell what a stupid idea that was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took a seat and stared down at your scuffed up shoes. Murdered or old age, you wouldn’t be leaving. It was impossible. Your breakout would be on the news. Your face was already known. You could get a haircut or wear some makeup to change yourself a little, maybe hide the tattooes-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. Impossible. Not happening. Stop. You glanced up at him skeptically. He was busy picking his next plate and hadn’t turned toward you once. His movements were casual and calm, different from how he normally acted. You watched him eat and when he was finished he kept the cart tucked close much to your displeasure. Finally, those piercing eyes turned to you and wrenched out the simmering hostility you felt since you came down here. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You squared your shoulders and pinched your lips together, “We aren’t escaping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually motherfucker,” he rumbled in a tone you might have considered sounded ‘happy’ if you thought he were capable of such a thing, “I think we are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think I’ll help you? After everything you did to me?” His expression darkened and you pointed, “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re insane.” Inspiration struck. You noted the way he bared his fangs at you through the slot of the mask. “How about this, then. If you’re able to behave up until Marklo leaves I’ll actually consider breaking us out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The troll paused. “How long’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” You countered, “Could be eight months, could be nine. If he keeps doing favors he could be out of here in six.” You wanted very badly to go with him. “If you can last that long without-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Motherfucker I’ll make no promises for the lowbloods that end up down here but contrary to whatever you may believe you’ve already found your way to the bottom of my culling list.” He let out a low snarl, “Don’t make me rank you higher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. That was...a new revelation. You thought you were pretty high up there considering. You starved him, almost struck him with a mop, humiliated him, treated him like an animal… you eyed the cart sitting next to him and glanced back at the doors. Any minute now someone would show up. “Was that before you realized you might get out of here if you were nicer to me or after?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His low chuckle bounced about the room as the locks hissed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Does it matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You could get the last words seeing as he wouldn’t speak with an audience but couldn’t think of anything to say. Even if you were at the bottom you were still on it. There was a bitter comfort in knowing he wouldn’t outright lie to you to try and get himself out of here. At least, not so blatantly. Part of him still wanted your demise and you expected it, but for now the two of you were at a stalemate. Your heart still sped up a bit whenever you came to take the cart from him and all he did was slowly blink down at you. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still as daunting as ever. Shackled and muzzled he exuded power and you didn’t know what kind of hell he’d unleash if you were to ever free him. While he had been acting more decent before you brought up your vague hope of leaving this place, you didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Was his urge to get home stronger than his bloodlust? Was he actually just lonely and wanted some company that wasn’t one of his own kind? Most likely he just wanted out of here and was willing to do whatever it took before his eventual betrayal led to your death.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he’d give you the decency to kill you once you made it outside of the city walls.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Eight chapters later and he finally knows your name.<br/>Also, can you tell how much I love writing fighting scenes? lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Savagery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You have a talk with the Highblood and realize the plethora of holes in your plan to escape.<br/>Going out on a limb, you decide to try and ask for help...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you guys like your reading moods chaotic cause a lot of stuff happens in not a lot amount of time (*･ω･)✎__</p><p>asdfg it's been so long - I've missed writing so much :c</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Motherfucker that’s beneath me you can do that shit on your own.”</p><p>The giant troll had the audacity to take a seat and yawn as though his very existence were tiring. You cleaned the safer half of the cell within the month and now you were ordered to get working on his half. The half that was significantly worse off than the rest of the cell. Older blood and rust from the chains were layered on the dark flooring, crusty pieces of old food were stuck to the ground, mildew and mold coated the farthest corner where a tiny spigot occasionally dripped what you hoped was clean water, the list went on. </p><p>You were still on edge when you came to the limit of his reach but for the most part he would keep to himself and take a seat along the far wall, eyes tracking your motions like a dangerous, lazy cat. You worked alone and mostly in silence, grumbling occasionally at the particularly nasty marks you couldn’t clean. It was agonizingly slow progress as ever. </p><p>“So.” You tipped the bucket and allowed a generous puddle to flood the area near the basin-like sink and drain beneath the old spout. “Do you even remember the last time you showered?”</p><p>“<em> No </em>.” He snapped, and you expected him to get mouthy but instead his tone turned almost wistful, “I had a big ass shower back on Alternia. A respiteblock made for my size instead of all these tiny-ass-” he droned on in trollish or whatever the language was called and nodded occasionally as if you understood. </p><p>His sudden shift in language went beyond being bilingual. There was a physical difference whenever he got to monologuing. In his babbling, his eyes would get hazy, his words had more teeth than growls and it was usually your lack of response that would snap him out of it. If you played along he would get stuck in the mental fog and go quiet instead of finding something new to argue about. </p><p>As you expected, he slowly quieted down and had that faraway look in his eyes. It was all unnerving. It would never not be considering he’d do the same thing when he was most dangerous. You stuck close to the edge of the room and listened in case he moved but all he did was hunker down and merely observe. </p><p>A couple minutes of silence later, working at easing up the layers of grime from the puddle you left to soak, you decided to ask him more about himself to get him out of his head. “What kind of house did you have?”</p><p>“What?” The chains sang when he shook himself out of his stupor, “A big one. Made of metal and stone with hallways bearing my motherfucking mark.” </p><p>Sounded about right. Fitting for a beast like him. “What’d you do back home?” </p><p>“I dealt with any blasphemous mid-bloods that dared go against the Condesce.” He sounded prideful of that. Was the Condesce a set of rules? Last time he spoke about it as if it was a person. Maybe a leader?  “Worked my way up through training and so much fucking blood to get to where I am. I earned that spot. Crafted a cathedral so grand it would have made the ancestors <em> weep </em>.” </p><p>Ah, that creepy murder cult Marklo told you a bit about. Seeing as he was chatty tonight you decided to pry some more answers out of him while his good mood lasted. Angling the crummy pole of the mop into the broken cracks in the floor so you could wedge the wet strands into those harder to reach places, you squinted over at him. “So...the Condesce is like the priest of your cult and you work with them?”</p><p>“What the fuck’s a priest?” You did your best to explain how it was essentially the head of a church, vaguely describing what sermons were and what a congregation was. “No, bitch, that’s me. I’m the fucking priest. The Imperial Condescension is the Empress. She keeps-” he made a sound similar to a gargling burble that caught you off guard, “under control so it doesn’t wipe out half the galaxy.”</p><p>You cautiously mimicked the sound and the shine in his eyes grew round. You tried repeating the word again, surprised when he corrected you, and it went back and forth until it clicked into something along the lines of “Gl'bgolyb” and you did your best to stop from laughing at the silly name. “So what is Gl'bgolyb?”</p><p>“Her lusus. I only saw it once when she was getting ready to take off into space. Biggest fucking thing I ever saw. Motherfucker was the size of the battleship.” It could have been a trick of the light but you could have sworn the lightbulb flickered. “A thousand limbs shot out of the ocean to try and pull it back-”</p><p>“Wait, it’s a sea monster?”</p><p>“It’s a <em> lusus. </em>I just told you, pay attention.” You held up your hands in defense and mentally drifted off for a moment, wondering how a sea monster with a name such as - you huffed out a soft laugh and heard the highblood growl. “And what is so motherfucking funny?”</p><p>He probably wouldn’t find it as humorous as you did but the realization wouldn’t leave. Hopefully he wouldn’t take offense to your horrible joke. You propped yourself up on the mop and flicked a hand out to him. “The monster’s name sounds kind of like ‘glub glub’ and like, it’s a sea monster. A <em> sea </em> monster named <em> glub glub </em>.” There was a short silence that somehow made it even better. It held that smug euphoria of getting to be the one to say a terrible pun while everyone groaned and hated you for it. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s in water and glub-”</p><p>The highblood made an ungodly loud bark that echoed in the empty room. You jumped at the sound and readied yourself to run before you realized he was wheezing out short, honking laughs. It was unlike anything you’d heard him make before and he caught himself - quickly dissolving into low chuckles. His shoulders jostled, the chains themselves snickered, and he drew himself back and glanced to the side with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that shit.” He pointed a long finger in your direction, “Finally made a decent joke, human. Maybe you won’t be so bad as a jester when we get out of here.”</p><p>You didn’t have time to think about how the highblood might have had a sense of humor beyond making people suffer when the instant weight of dread felt like it would crush you alive. He didn’t have any of the doubts you had for the future - he still thought the two of you were leaving. You quietly mopped up the remainder of the water and pushed past the stench of chemicals to hurry. You didn’t want to talk about the escape while you were in grabbing range. There was no way you’d be able to talk to him knowing he was close enough to strike you if you said something he didn’t like.</p><p>“Have you figured out where we are?”</p><p>You pushed the bucket towards the safer end of the room, “Yeah. To a degree. I know we’re in Maine but I don’t know exactly where.” You doubted he’d handle any bad news well. You started off slow, “Listen, we might be able to escape but I don’t think we’ll make it to the portal.” He rolled his head onto his shoulder and blinked as if he were already bored. “Let's say we somehow make it past all the guards and the fences. They’ll broadcast our escape. They’ll be looking for us. We have to somehow sneak past several state lines around thousands of people and hope no one recognizes us. The gateway in Missouri is already heavily fortified and Marklo made it sound like highbloods can’t even cross it but somehow you did. What if you can’t cross it again?” What if <em> you </em>couldn’t cross it? You didn’t know of any humans venturing to Alternia but you had missed out on years of events.</p><p>“I’ll take that chance-”</p><p>The locks hissed and you were glad for the distraction. You left with little notion to the highblood and got put on laundry duty, shovelling clothes into the giant rotating machine in hopes of losing yourself to the monotony. In a few months Marklo would be leaving. He was working hard in volunteering, the hours were getting shaved off much faster than before. You could tell he was excited by the ways his eyes sparkled whenever you greeted him every time he came back. </p><p>This time, he told you he had been helping build some new library a city away when you met up in the mess hall. You could tell it was mostly construction since he smelled like dust and smoke. You devoted yourself to his tale of mixing concrete and soaked in his laughter as he described the way someone flailed just before they were shoved into the wet mix. The foreman screaming at them was a little less humorous but he took it with a grain of salt. </p><p>Your suggestion to hit the showers after you ate made him smile. “It’s not like you to suggest it first.”</p><p>You shrugged and spooned out a scoop of something thick and lumpy. “Where I’ve been cleaning the highbloods cell I can feel the grime sticking to me.” You could feel the muck gather into a dirty clump whenever you rubbed your sweaty face. “I’ve been taking enough showers alone.”</p><p>“So you’ve been missing me, haven’t you, Trollhunter?” He was purring. It was quiet, so low you almost missed it but you luckily didn’t. The corners of his eyes crinkled and the two of you finished your meal in a comfortable hush, the endless chattering of the inmates around you merely background noise. </p><p>Collecting the necessary supplies, you waited out in the hallway and found out you’d shown up first. Usually he was already here since he was on the first floor to begin with. You patiently lingered, watching the trolls pass by with hardly a sneer in your direction, instead getting almost completely overlooked. He showed up after ten minutes or so with a short apology and the two of you occupied one of the stalls near the middle of the room, the others already taken.</p><p>While you bent to toe off your shoes and socks, you wondered what he’d have to say if you brought up your harebrained scheme. You’d kept several secrets from him as it was, and soon you wouldn’t be able to talk to him at all. Marklo knew a lot about the prison, he knew about the cell blocks, the prisoners, the guards, the way the system worked...surely whatever he shared would help you make it out of here alive. He wouldn’t rat you out to the guards if you told him. You were friends, <em> more than friends </em>, he would never betray you like that. A low ache in your belly started in the form of a fearful ‘what if’ and you decided to go for it.</p><p>“Hey,” you drawled quietly, slipping out of your pants the same time he messily folded his to put in the corner, “Do you know if anyone’s ever…escaped from here?”</p><p>He didn’t seem to think anything of the question. “No one’s gotten out of here. It isn’t like how it was in your old movies where they dug a hole and snuck out in the middle of the night. Which did catch me off guard because - why would you pick night out of all the times when it’s common knowledge you humans can’t see in the dark, but I figured it out.” He removed his underwear and turned, slipping his shirt over his head and horns. “Why?”</p><p>You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and fully undressed, sidling up behind him when he started the shower. “I was thinking of trying to leave.”</p><p>He stuck a hand into the water and scoffed, “Yeah, okay.” He stepped under first and started running his hands through his hair, working on the tangles and getting it sufficiently wet. When you didn’t answer he slowed his motions and shot you a look. His mouth was slightly parted, brows drawn together in a nervous little furrow. “You...you’re not joking.”</p><p>You lathered up a rag and went to work on his back to avoid his disapproving face. “I was just thinking about it. It’s not like I’d actually do it.” Maybe. You dug your knuckles hard into his spine for a rough massage and heard him groan. Even with the many sounds of water splashing and talking trolls, you could keep quiet and know he heard you. “But, hypothetically, if I were to try to break out in the future…”</p><p>“They’ll kill you on sight the second you make it over one of the fences.”</p><p>You didn’t doubt it. “You knew what was in the other buildings and you can see so much better than I can at night. What’s out there?”</p><p>His shoulders drooped and he turned to face you, grabbing onto your shoulders before you could find something else to do to avoid him. “Listen to me. Don’t you dare try it. I know it’ll be hard but at least you’ll be alive here. If you escape you’re free game. The guards here protect you - to a degree - but if you go out there anyone can do anything they want to you. You’ll be on your own.”</p><p>All valid points. Even if they didn’t like you, the workers were obligated to keep you as safe as they could. However… “This is no way to live.” Your heart gave a painful little thump and you didn’t bother hiding your hurt. “I shouldn’t be here.”</p><p>His fingers tightened on your shoulders before his arms dropped to his sides. His eyes were sharp, jaw clenched, his cheeks twitched as he turned away to grab the shampoo. You waited for him to say something while he worked up a thick lather but he remained silent. You let it drop for now and went to work on yourself, scrubbing your arms and face, glad for the raw, fresh feel of your cleaned skin. There was a heaviness in the air that grew the longer neither of you spoke and you regretted telling him. </p><p>Perhaps you could salvage this somehow. “I wouldn’t do it while you were here. I’d wait for you to leave-”</p><p>“<em> Don’t </em>.”</p><p>You shut your mouth and rinsed out the shampoo, adding his conditioner a moment later. Even if you felt clean by the end of it, it didn’t feel like progress. You still felt as uneasy as you were before you came. Drying off and redressing, you headed back to your cell and Marklo followed along, tossing himself down on the bed first. You lingered for a moment and he angrily patted his lap. </p><p>You stretched out with your feet dangling over the edge and put your head on his thigh. His hands went to work brushing out your hair aggressively. In a low and bitter voice, he snarled out, “Is it because I’m leaving?”</p><p>“Partially,” you answered after a moment of thought, “I wouldn’t do anything to keep you from leaving. Or get you into trouble.”</p><p>“I know you wouldn’t.” His claws raked lines along your scalp in a way that had you trembling at the sensation. “Trollhunter, even if it’s just a thought, make sure it stays that way. They have guns and numbers on their side.” You debated telling him the rest of your ideas and as if he could read your mind his eyes narrowed. “How long have you been thinking about this?”</p><p>“Since isolation?” You glanced to the doors and sat up, huddling closer. “What if you humor me? I can’t see out in the courtyard that well but you can.”</p><p>His eyes shifted to a darker orange you hadn’t seen since you first arrived here. “Do you think I’ll help you break out of here?”</p><p>You shushed him and grabbed his wrist, shrugging a shoulder. “I’d stand a better chance of not dying if you did. I’m not going to make it obvious you were involved. I would never hold you back here when you’re this close to getting out but when you’re gone I...want to be gone. I don’t want to stay here. I can’t.”</p><p>His hand came up slowly to cover your mouth and you held back a wince when he dug his fingers into your cheeks. His breathing was quiet and shallow, agonizingly slow. “I think we should stop talking about this now.”</p><p>He doubted you. It was clear on his face. You nodded mutely and he dropped his hands, waiting for you to do something. You shuffled until your back hit the wall and patted your own thighs. He dropped almost instantly and tucked his face into your stomach, your fingers gently playing with the tender area around his horns and the coarse hair that curled faintly at the edges. </p><p>It was clear you would be on your own for this. Maybe he thought you were trying to get out to go on another rampage. While it was true you weren’t sure what happened the first time and there wasn’t a guarantee it would never happen again, in this moment you only wanted a peaceful life. You wanted to be outside <em> living </em>. </p><p>“Tell me about the apartments you’ve been looking at.” You asked him gently, glancing down at his shut eyes. He did so, quietly and patiently, if not somewhat distanced from the conversation.</p><p>You parted when it was time to do your cleanup without a single word of goodbye. </p><p>As if things couldn’t get worse, the next night when you went downstairs with the cart of food and your mop and bucket, the highblood wasn’t talking. He was tucked in the corner, muttering and twitching to the shadows. No matter how many times you called for him he wouldn’t answer. It would have been foolish to get near him so you half-heartedly cleaned your side again, catching any spots you missed prior. Around the time you felt like the guard would come down for you - he was watching. The red glow of his eyes following your every move around the room. </p><p>This was supposed to be the troll you’d escape with? “I said if you’d behave I’d think about getting us out of here.” He drew in a shaky, rasping breath and his fingers twitched, his body lowering closer to the floor in a low crouch. Only, it felt less like a casual kneel and more like he was ready to lunge. You held the mop handle in both hands, not that it would do much to protect you if he broke out of his bindings. “Think you can come back to me and tell me you’re not crazy tonight?”</p><p>He was whispering something, chanting words you couldn’t understand and had no desire to know. His fingertips touched the dirty tiles beneath him and his claws slowly dragged across the ground, catching on each divot ominously. His light grazing turned into a harsh gouge at the floor that managed to crack a few tiles near his feet. “Hey...Lil’ Bitch…”</p><p>“What?” You were tempted to act like it didn’t bother you by gathering your stuff but you settled for keeping your face blank and unimpressed. You didn’t want to turn away from him. </p><p>“Come over here.” <em> Nope </em>. You wheeled the cart of food to the door after dumping everything in the trash and waited for it to open. He quietly shuffled and his soft, rolling laughter made your heart clench nervously. “Don’t trust me?”</p><p>“Not a bit.” You wanted out. You couldn’t escape with this monster. He was deranged.</p><p>He laughed. “Give me a chance.”</p><p>“Like hell I am.” You shook the mop at him, “I don’t know whatever this is but I don’t want anything to do with it. You’re being a creep.”</p><p>He cocked his head to the side, “Why.”</p><p>“It’s like pulling teeth talking to you. You’re whispering to no one. It sounds like some satanic mumbo jumbo. You’re being creepy.”</p><p>“I hear them.” He told you simply, gaze distant. “They’re so motherfucking quiet.”</p><p>Fuck <em> this </em>. “Unless you get yourself under control we aren’t going anywhere.” You gestured to the room and towards the shadows, knowing there wasn’t a secret individual lurking about. It wasn’t like there was anything to hide behind and if anyone got close to the highblood you were certain he would have killed them long ago. “There’s no one here. It’s just me and you.”</p><p>“And Them.” He pointed to the roof. You didn’t bother talking to him after that. He asked you to come closer a few times and you eventually turned away from him completely, perched right at the opening of the exit. The guard hadn’t come soon enough and he didn’t utter a peep as you left upstairs. </p><p>You worked in hydroponics and at the mess hall, Marklo wasn’t there to greet you. He was across the room with his friends, chatting about something excitedly. You ate alone and retreated to your cell to wait until daylight lockdown.</p><p>The next day was much of the same. The Highblood was frightening and once again he wouldn’t speak. He didn’t acknowledge you. He chattered and snarled and refused the food you offered and in the end you threw it away. </p><p>You split your thumb nail on the crushing machine while making licenses and the jagged end kept catching on your clothes when you walked. Your teeth could only get so close to the skin and you continued gnawing at the uneven tip as you took a seat at your claimed spot outside beside the prison wall after lunch. </p><p>You weren’t expecting Marklo to show up and you prepared one final bite before you said hello but he was quicker than you anticipated. “What are you doing? Stop that.” His hand shot out to swat your thumb away from your mouth and you licked your lips with a furrow of your brows. He didn’t take a seat, instead choosing to loom high above you with his hands on his hips as if he wanted an explanation.</p><p>You rolled your wrist toward him, eagerly taking the opportunity to talk. Maybe he was willing to put the whole escape talk behind him and this was his attempt to reach back out. “I broke my nail. It keeps-” </p><p>The grab was sudden and he yanked your wrist higher to see, the mail glossy with saliva, shiny from the dim moon and lighting in the courtyard. “So you’re biting it?”</p><p>“I don’t have any nail clippers.” You pulled your hand back and set it in your lap. It was clear there was still something you couldn’t identify between you. He didn’t act like he hated you, and in this moment he wasn’t disappointed. There was an annoyance that he couldn’t completely wipe off of his face and you patted the spot next to you as an invitation. </p><p>Much to your relief, he dropped to his knees but reached for your face, hooking his thumbs against your upper lip to push them out of the way so he could see your teeth. “Look at these little nubs.” He scoffed and leaned uncomfortably close to your face, his own warm breath washing over nose and chin. “How do you bite anything?”</p><p>Was he playing? You jerked your head and clamped your teeth lightly around his thumb. He didn’t even jump. You bit down a little harder and let him go, trying to wiggle away from his hands on your cheeks. Luckily he pulled away a fraction. You fumbled for something to say beyond ‘what the hell’ and decided maybe it was some cultural thing. “The front ones are for cutting food and the back ones are for chewing.” You tilted your head back with your mouth open and he ducked his head curiously, humming at the view. “Our teeth are like that because we’re omnivores - we eat meat and plants.”</p><p>His attention was still on your mouth. A gag escaped when he shoved a thumb between your lips toward the back of your mouth, the rough pad rolling over the molars. His other fingers curled around your jaw to keep you in place and he easily turned your head to the side to peek. “At least these are sharp.”</p><p>Was he <em> still </em>playing? You weren’t a fan of his fingers knuckle deep into your mouth and scowled, grabbing his face to give him a taste of his own medicine. You wedged your thumbs between his lips and hooked them around his cheeks to spread his mouth open in a wet, hideous grin. Marklo made a startled sound and you eyed the sharpened fangs casually. They were clean, evenly spaced, with a small chip on the upper right side. You hadn’t heard the story for the cause of that yet. If he felt kind enough to talk again you would be sure to ask him about it. His green-tinted tongue slurped wetly around your palm before he snapped his head back and lunged forward. </p><p>Unlike your own teeth, his could easily take a chunk out of your hands and it pinched a little when he bit down lightly. You waited for him to do something but from the narrow of his eyes he was thinking the same thing. You pulled away first, relieved when he let you go and his own thumb slid out of your mouth. You ran your tongue over your teeth and swallowed down the grainy aftertaste, not the typical saltiness of human skin but something similarly close.</p><p>“What the fuck.”  A voice off to the side blurted.</p><p>A bit away at their usual spot, Marklo’s friends were watching. You didn’t know how to explain what just happened seeing as you weren’t sure yourself. Was he messing around? Was this an attempt to break the ice since it had been two days since you spoke to each other? Marklo stood and dusted off his knees, walking over with a smug hum, “I told you she’s docile.”</p><p>They began arguing with him in their own language so you couldn’t understand and it felt like a slap in the face. Had he done that to show off to his friends? Did that mean he was still upset with you? What did any of this mean? While you were certain he wouldn’t tell anyone your dreams of escaping, this sudden shunning didn’t sit well with you.</p><p>You let yourself stargaze until a light drizzle drove you back inside.</p><p>The next night when you wheeled the cart into the basement cell the highblood was asleep. “Wake up.” You cleared your throat and heard him stir. “Hey! You psycho today?”</p><p>“Say that again motherfucker.” Two red lights blinked into existence slowly, the reflections hazy.</p><p>“So when you go crazy do you remember what’s going on?” You had questions that needed answered. There was no need to beat around the bush - not when it came to this. You brought the cart close to the middle of the room and waited for him to answer.</p><p>He dragged himself to his feet and lazily strolled to the ends of his chain, stretching himself awkwardly in a way that had popped his spine in several low spots. After several cracks he let out a groan, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Oh. “Cool.” Well there was part of your answer. You shoved the cart toward him so you wouldn’t have to get closer and turned back to the door to sit beside your abandoned mop and bucket. </p><p>After making yourself comfortable, you noticed he hadn’t eaten yet. The highblood hadn’t even reached for the food to pull it towards him. He stared between you and the cart, his head dipping to the side thoughtfully. “Are we back to this now?”</p><p>“Yeah.” You crossed your legs over each other like a pretzel and dropped your hands into your lap. “Do you remember anything from yesterday?”</p><p>“You threw my fucking food away I remember that.” He said, although there wasn’t much heat behind it. He snagged the edge of the cart and dragged it over, tipping back a bowl to drink. </p><p>“Do you remember what I said to you?” He made a halfhearted grunt and left it at that. “If we’re going to get out of here-“ his head shot up at that but you shut him down with a frown, “We have to figure out what causes those...I don’t even know what to call them. I can’t have you go psycho while we’re on the lamb.” His face scrunched up. “While we’re running away.”</p><p>“You’ll be fine.” He said it so casually. As if it were nothing important.</p><p>“You told me to come closer to you.” He paused in his next bite and shrugged. You sneered, laying your next words on thick. “What happens when you get mouthy and I can’t catch what your mood is in time and you kill me while you’re manic?” This seemed to interest him. He shuffled and lowered the food a fraction, turning his full attention into you. “You won’t even know. You’ll just ‘come to’ one day and I’ll never show up again.”</p><p>He tilted his head back to show off his fangs. “I’d fuckin’ notice.”</p><p>“Would you? You sure as hell don’t remember anything we talked about - what makes you think you’ll remember killing me?” You clicked your tongue and gestured to the floor. “Ah, right. You'd probably notice the brand new blood. Unlike you I remember how-“</p><p>He let out a vicious snarl and slammed a hand on the ground. The bang made you shut your mouth but you kept your face clear of any emotion. His chest heaved once before he collected himself, taking a hearty bite. A heavy silence filled the cell while he chewed and when he swallowed, he uttered, “I wouldn’t cull the easiest way out of this prison. You’re useful.”</p><p>You nodded dubiously and set your hands in your lap, checking your nails and digging out the dirt, biting absently on a hangnail. When the clattering of his hands on the cart subsided the sudden thump told you he sat down. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw him stretching his legs out. “Come over here.”</p><p>You laughed bitterly. “No.”</p><p>He sniffed and held out a hand as far as the chains would allow, curling his fingers. “Come here.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?” You rolled your eyes and didn’t bother moving. He curled a finger and when it was clear you weren’t going to humor him he growled again. Your little spot beside the door had grown warm from your body heat and you tucked your hands beneath your bottom to warm them up too. </p><p>“When I call you answer me.”</p><p>Your jaw dropped and you turned to look over at him. Between whatever was happening between you and Marklo and the nerve of the highblood, you were itching for a fight and the bastard was practically begging for one. You leaned forward and sneered, “Or what?”</p><p>His blazing eyes bore into you with murderous intent. His fingers twitched as if he’s like nothing more than to wrap them around your neck and choke you. You hummed. If he threw the cart then you’d starve him. If he hurt you he’d have to deal with the other trolls. If he killed you he’d have no one ever again. You thumped the back of your head against the wall and shut your eyes, partially for defiance and additionally for the fact that you didn’t want to look at him any longer than necessary. </p><p>His deep rumble caught you off guard. You frowned and cracked an eye open to see his shoulders droop, a pleasant hum coming from the mask. He whispered something and gestured again, patting the space between his legs. “You’ll have to trust me eventually.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” You squinted, “You really sure about that?”</p><p>He nodded. Then patted again. “Come over here. I won’t kill you.”</p><p>His blatant confession put you on edge. You noted that he said ‘kill’ and not <em> hurt </em>. No matter how many times he flicked a hand in your direction or told you to come over - you didn’t.</p><p>When he whistled you flipped him off. “Lil’ Bitch, I had plenty of times to kill you before and I haven’t done it yet.”</p><p><em> Yet </em>. “Not for lack of trying.”</p><p>You knew he'd snap eventually. It was incredible he lasted as long as he had. He started pulling at his chains and thrashed, clawing at the ground with a feral desperation that made your heart jump into your throat. He started shouting, screeching in Trollish you managed to catch the phrase: “I’ll give you a reason to be afraid” among the rant. He kept up this howling until the guard came and he snapped his mouth shut, peering at the door, to you, and then on the cart nearby.</p><p>You went to the door without even attempting to retrieve it. “He won’t give it to me.”</p><p>The guard pointed back into the room. “You have to get it.”</p><p>You turned to peer into the dim lighting and saw him drag it far back into the cell, nearly completely to the opposite wall. Those terrifying eyes trained on you with pointed hostility and you could practically feel his smug aggression from the door. You faced the guard, “Do you see this?”</p><p>“I do.” She seemed confused but like the others, cared little for your safety. “Go get it.”</p><p>You stood in the doorframe and weighed the benefits of another night in solitary as opposed to possibly getting torn to bits. Mental health versus physical health. The guard pushed you toward him with her baton and you stopped again at the halfway mark of the room, right at the edge of his reach, and saw his eyes narrow. He held up one hand and beckoned you closer, that sharpened finger curling towards his palm exactly once into a loose fist.</p><p>You spun on your heel, “Take me to solitary.”</p><p>“<em> Go get the cart! </em>”</p><p>You crossed the threshold and your body rebelled. This was dangerous and stupid. You walked on automatic toward the cart and kept your inner shrieking and fear tucked deep down so you appeared to be the epitome of uncaring.</p><p>You had never been this close to his side of the room. Not after what happened. The ground was filthy, the air colder, the smell worse. Not four feet away from him you reached out to take the cart.</p><p>You weren’t fast enough when he snapped his hand out. You skittered back but he caught you, dragging you closer toward him. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. The guard stepped into the room and shouted a warning but you knew she wouldn’t come to help. She'd be a casualty if she tried. The highblood lowered his head and rumbled so quietly only you could hear, “Was that so hard?”</p><p>You nearly wet yourself. He gave your body a little squeeze and plucked his fingers away one by one until you were released. You didn’t get the feeling in your limbs back fast enough and he pushed the cart toward you until it hit your stomach. </p><p>His laughter was quiet and the humiliation spurred you into action, grabbing hold of the cart and turning quickly. The guard had her hand on her utility belt but both of you knew there was little she could do to help if he decided to hurt you. On the way upstairs you shut your eyes and counted the seconds until you made it safely to the top. You felt both numb and energized at the same time.</p><p>The guard nudged you toward your Purpose and you were reminded yet again about how little you really mattered.</p><p>You were placed on kitchen cleaning duty, hands tender from all the scrubbing and thoroughly wrinkled from the endless dish washing. You grabbed a plate and sat alone, mind uncomfortably fuzzy thanks to the way your brain refused to stop thinking about Marklo’s new treatment and the Highblood’s insanity.</p><p>You wondered if it boiled down to how badly you desired to live. Obviously you didn’t want to die here but the moment Marklo left you’d be utterly alone. No one to listen to your woes or help dissuade attackers. If you did try to escape there was a very real chance you’d get killed before you made it out of the building and you didn’t know how good you’d be at hiding from the public. With the population on the lookout for the rampant Trollhunter, how far would you make it before you were killed or captured again? They’d put you in a supermax if not straight on death row.</p><p>It seemed as though all roads lead to the possibility of death.</p><p>You didn’t know how long you spent staring at your food but when you blinked your eyes were burning. You turned to see Marklo approach and sit across from you with his own tray, beside him two others of his friends. He arched a brow when he saw you wipe at your eyes, “Are you crying?”</p><p>“No. My eyes just hurt.” You wiped your face clear of emotion and started eating. His friends were...Presic and Raikut, two you’d heard him speak of but never officially met. They didn’t seem pleased to sit here and you knew it was only because of Marklo. They didn’t look like they wanted to talk either and you were more than happy to avoid any awkward conversations by devoting your time to your meal. </p><p>“Are you heading to the courtyard after this?” Marklo asked with a bit of a hiss, as if you had missed a cue of some kind. </p><p>You licked your lips and hummed noncommittally. “I can if you want me to.”</p><p>Presic and Raikut glanced at one another and Marklo dropped his head to rub at his forehead. He flicked his wrist out and clicked his tongue, “Okay, <em> no </em>, I don’t want you to go to the courtyard I was just asking.”</p><p>You held back from frowning. “Well, I’d like to go outside.”</p><p>He put on a strained smile, “All right then.”</p><p>What the hell. You dumped your tray and so did they when you were mostly finished. Once you made it through the doors the two veered off toward the benches toward their other friends. Marklo stuck around and sat down beside you with a sigh. </p><p>You leaned back against the building and ignored the mildew wetting your clothes, deciding to just get it off your chest and out into the open. “I really upset you, didn’t I?”</p><p>“I…” He snarled and lowered his voice, “it’s a bad idea and I don’t want to talk about it now.” He drew his legs up and propped his arms on his knees, his head hung down with his chin to his chest. You allowed him the silence and stared up at the sky, mood dwindling from the darkened clouds that blocked your view of space. “This would be a lot easier if you were the killer I thought you were.”</p><p>You cracked a weak smile, “Honestly...I’m starting to think so too.” You swallowed down the lump in your throat and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I think a lot about what happened and...I can’t figure it out. I had a decent life. I had a good family. I-” You let your shoulders droop and shut your eyes, “I was supposed to be someone, you know? I don’t know who or what but I was supposed to do something with my life. Maybe help some people or - or be the head of some company. Maybe I was going to open up a little store somewhere or work in a library or push carts <em> or something </em>.”</p><p>You trailed off and decided to stop the pity train before it could go any further. Marklo’s body jostled when he huffed out a single laugh. “Becoming a serial killer wasn’t part of the plan?”</p><p>You gave in. You let yourself sink into the nihilism that bubbled up low in your belly, letting it curl around your heart to melt into bittersweet apathy. “Can’t say it was.”</p><p>One. Two. Three seconds of silence.</p><p>Marklo let out a long, drawn out groan and finally pulled his head away from his chest. “You’re still a bastard.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. “I mean it, Trollhunter.” You simply nodded. He rocked from one side and used the momentum rocking back to the other to throw himself against you, roughly shoving your arms out of the way so he could lie his head down in your lap. He had never done this in public. Usually the two of you were in the mildly private space of your cells. One of his friends called out something and all Marklo did was flip him off. </p><p>You gently played with his hair, your hands hidden from the rest of the courtyard by his own bulk and the back of his head. “The fences are too high for you to climb over.” He said softly, playing with your shoelaces. “You barely have any upper body strength. I doubt you could make it that high and cross over the wires.” You hummed out an agreement. “Even if you did manage, the guard towers would spot you and call it in.”</p><p>You paused, hands slowly braiding his hair. “I didn’t know there were towers.”</p><p>“Yeah, three of them. Stationed between the buildings other than at the very back.” He untied your left shoe and suddenly scoffed, “Wait, how the hell did you get laced shoes? We aren’t allowed these.” You glanced around and sure enough, the other trolls were wearing slip ons or sandals-type footwear. “You bastard. I can’t even take these from you because they’re too small.”</p><p>“You’d steal my shoes?”</p><p>“Absolutely.” You made two more braids before he piped up again. “Have you ever fought against a dog before?”</p><p>“No, I’ve been bitten by a dog before but…” Your memories were starting to get a hazy again and you wished you could hold onto the flashback. “I think we were just playing.”</p><p>“These dogs will not be playing. There’s not many of them because most of your dogs can’t actually break our skin but the ones that can are around the borders.” He went on to describe what you assumed were german shepherds or malinois and how fast they could run. “If they can break our skin they’ll tear you to shreds.”</p><p>“So could you.” You countered before you could really think about it. You reached out to grab his hand and ran your thumb over one of his fingernails, “You’ve got talons.”</p><p>He yanked his hand from your grip and continued messing with your shoes. “It isn’t my fault your gene pools have been infected with weaklings. Thin skin. No claws. No fangs. Even your guns are pathetic. You had to make special guns to handle our superior bodies.” He smacked a hand down on his chest and wiggled, “Which they <em> will </em>use on you if they see you out of your designated area.”</p><p>You brushed some of his hair from his forehead and he peered back at you, eyes tinted orange, pupils in wide ovals with the very edges his particular shade of green. The silence between you was heavy and his gaze inquisitive. You cracked a smile and rubbed the base of his horn. “I’d imagine they swap out night trolls for morning humans during shifts?”</p><p>“They might.” He spat, swatting your touch away. His upper lip curled in a snarl, “Don’t do that shit out here.”</p><p>“Yeah? Why’s that?” You left your hand drop and he rolled his eyes, snatching your wrist roughly to put it on the side of his head. So he still wanted his hair to be played with? “Are you embarrassed when we...how do you say it? When we’re pale in public?”</p><p>“Not everyone wants to see that.” He grumbled, letting his arm drop. A moment later he ripped up a handful of grass. “What was I even…”</p><p>For every biting comment you countered with lighthearted jokes. You hung onto his every word and gently ran your hand over the numerous braids you wove on the back and sides of his head. If they were smaller and you had rubber bands they’d look much nicer. You weren’t sure it suited him but if he didn’t like them he could easily take them apart. After he told you about the acres and acres of wilderness beyond the two hundred yards of open space between the walls of the prison and the forest line, he rolled upright and dusted himself off. “I’m done with this.”</p><p>You let him go to his friends and after a few minutes you headed back to your cell to apply all of his descriptions to memory. Apparently there was some miniscule part in him that wanted to help out. You just hoped this wouldn’t turn out to be a massive mistake.</p><p>You slept thinking of his words and woke up remembering much of it, counting them off silently on your fingers. The guard towers, the dogs, the field, the chain link fence, the brick and concrete wall around the entire complex, the guns, the forest...the...you were forgetting three of them. You were sure there were ten. </p><p>You cursed yourself and wheeled the Highblood’s food downstairs, sweeping your mind back and forth over the details from last night. Was it the weather? Something about the openings? Yes - only one way in and out of the complex if you couldn’t get over the wall. It, however, had no less than three checkpoints scanning vehicles and carding visitors.</p><p>You shouldered opened the door and squinted at the blazing red eyes that watched your every move. You were about to ask him how he was this night but decided to wait - let him initiate for once. You had every right to deny him food for the stunt he pulled yesterday. The cart clattered quietly on the way over and you arched a brow five minutes later. “Are you going to apologize?”</p><p>He burst into a disbelieving cackle and you calmly went to the trash can and dumped everything on the plates into the plastic container. He stopped laughing at that but his eyes were squinted like he expected this. “I remember when you said you’d do anything to stay out of solitary. How you couldn’t start a fight. Now look at you, askin’ to be dragged off to the motherfucking darkness than obeying that disgusting lowblood.”</p><p>You sneered and returned to the door, propping yourself against the cold wall you could feel through your clothing. “Unlike you, when I get put in solitary it’s daylight all the time.” His cocky attitude was getting on your nerves. You’d throw all his food away tomorrow and see if he thought it was still funny. “Marklo told me the longest they’re allowed to put someone in isolation is fifteen days.” You glanced around the room and clicked your tongue, “Seems like you’d been here a lot longer than that.”</p><p>He shuffled into a more upright position and rumbled lowly. “Motherfucker come closer if you want to test my fuckin’ patience.”</p><p>“So you agree the only reason you’d want me closer is to hurt me?” To your surprise he paused and considered, “Listen, Highblood,” you spat, pushing yourself from the wall to take a few steps closer but remained a generous distance from his reach. “I think I’ve been pretty generous all things considered. All I wanted to know was what the hell was up with your sanity. You’re <em> unhinged </em>and if I’m going to be doing anything with you I want to know what causes it so I avoid letting it happen.”</p><p>“I told you you’re too important. I wouldn’t kill you.”</p><p>“<em> Right. </em> You’d probably maim me -  just break my arms and legs. As long as I’m not dead it’s fine, right?” You felt particularly spiteful being in this room with him and curled your upper lip in a sneer, “I hate being in this place but I want you to know there are no words to describe how much I hate <em> you </em>.” You’d shared a few laughs and casual banter, had a polite conversation or two, but at the end of the day, the heaviness in your gut and the tackiness in your palms all lead back to a deep rooted hatred. The highblood was not your friend. He was a means to an end and that end led to freedom. You were willing to play nice but it was clear the Highblood was not.</p><p>His eyes shrank to pinpoints and blew wide. You expected a shouting match or a roar or something else equally barbaric. Despite your expectations, all he did was make another rumble from deep in his chest and cracked his knuckles one at a time, the chains rattling softly. “So?”</p><p>You felt as though you were at your limit. Emboldened by your anger you took another step closer. “So I want some kind of guarantee you won’t make my life absolute hell if we get out of here. I want you to either figure out what goes on in that worm-infested brain of yours before you mentally tap out or I want you to convince me if we go out there you won’t bully me and beat me up. If I wanted abuse I’d just stay here. Tell me what makes leaving with you better than this?”</p><p>He scoffed and flung a hand out towards your body, “I’ve already fucking told you you’ll be coming back with me. I need a jester and you’ve told me at least two decent jokes so you’re capable of learning.”</p><p>You didn’t know your jaw dropped until the stagnant air coated your tongue and left behind the taste of mildew. “How does that guarantee anything?!”</p><p>He puffed himself up, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had some broken whelp at my feet and told them to tell me a joke? Hundreds. Thousands. I’ve lost count. They’re never funny. When you break them they can’t think through the pain. It’s pathetic. All of their jokes are fucking terrible.”</p><p>He continued on, quietly rambling to himself as he sifted through whatever horrible memories he chose to reminisce on as all you could do was stare. Your only protection was the possibility you’d be <em> unfunny </em>if he broke your bones or ruptured your organs. </p><p>Somehow, looking up at the hulking monstrosity that was your only way out of here, a part of you believed he was telling the truth.</p><p>And you hated it. </p><p>Your hands dragged down your face and you gave yourself to the count of ten to take an enormous breath and release it through your nose. You fought against yourself to calm down, knowing getting angry would get the two of you nowhere. “Right. Well, if you could figure out some way of letting me know you’re about to go over the edge so I’m not around when it happens…we might get somewhere.” You weren’t sure how he’d tell you when he wasn’t in the right mind when it happened. He was simply hyper aggressive when you went to the basement or he wasn’t, and you’d never seen him fully cascade into the madness, only partially whenever he’d slow his speech and go quiet. </p><p>“I’m not agreeing to shit because I still don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He glanced at the empty cart and suddenly reached  out, “Come to me, Trollhunter.”</p><p>How many times would you have to get in this conversation? “Did you not just hear what-”</p><p>He growled. “Motherfucker <em> I just told you </em> I wouldn’t benefit from splashing your disgusting blood all over these walls.” He turned his palm up and shook his hand, “Now come here.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“If you want whatever this blasphemous agreement is to be ‘harmonious’ I expect you to understand that no matter how much you bitch and whine, in the end I will always call the shots.” He wiggled his fingers, “All this fuckin’ talk about what I can offer you but beyond my freedom what else can you give me? I found my way to the portal once before and I’ll do it again with or without your help. Took enough of you filthy creatures to take me down once and your kind should have finished me off when they had the chance cause you’re not getting another one.”</p><p>You stood your ground and he dipped his head to his hand. For an uncomfortably long time you stared him down, battling against the fear in your gut from the memories and the fact that he really was the only way out of here. “Do me a favor.” You told him bitterly, taking a step closer. His eyes widened behind the mask and you held your hand out towards his, eyes trailing up the cuffed wrists toward the raggedy sleeve of his filthy clothes, up to the massive metal shackles around his throat weighing heavily on his wide shoulders. “If you ever decide to kill me just make it quick. I deserve at least that much.”</p><p>You couldn’t help but dig your nails into his wrist when he dragged you closer, his fingers scooping behind your back and side, claws digging into your spine with a pressure that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing. He held you with a firmness that reminded you of the time he stole your mop, lingering and overbearing. </p><p>You stared up at the rusted helmet and swallowed down your terror. “I thought you wanted a handshake.” You were proud that your voice didn’t shake.</p><p>He squeezed your body and scoffed, completely ignoring your words. “I’m surprised you even survived. So fucking soft and shit it’s a wonder your bones-” You grit your teeth and tried putting some distance between you but he merely held onto you with both hands. “Calm the fuck down.”</p><p>“Let go of me!” You were honestly surprised he listened. You took a few steps back but remained in his range as a show of good will but it took a generous amount of self-control to remain. “How…” you gathered yourself with a quick breath and stashed away any emotions, “How about we start off with some ground rules.” He started to grumble and you held up your hand to silence him, “One, how about you don’t fucking grab me. Two-”</p><p>“<em> Too many rules </em>, Lil’ Bitch. How about we talk about how we’re getting out of here instead of your misplaced insecurities and spineless whining. I said what I said. Let’s hear you talk about something important for once.” He bent himself nearly in half to get closer to your face and you flinched away from him. He cocked his head to the side and held up his arms, “Like how you’re gonna bust me out of these chains.”</p><p>You would absolutely organize yourself and make some rules for this wretched alliance later. For now, you gave in and eyed the heavy cuffs. </p><p>That was actually a good question.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So how's everyone been it's been a hot minute hasn't it</p><p>I was originally going to edit this chapter one more time (and I might later down the line) but it's been a month since I updated and I had to put something out so people wouldn't think I gave up on it (｡•́w•̀｡)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Your time with Marklo is starting to come to an end and you need to figure out how exactly you're going to break out of prison. Working with the Highblood has had its ups and down and...of course when you try to do something nice something new has to come along and ruin it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanna thank everyone for commenting really nice and super sweet stuff in the last few chapters it's been so nice and lovely to read I can't thank you enough.</p><p>This one's a little shorter because I decided to make the other section the start of the next chapter but I think it's all right by itself.</p><p>ALSO we have a <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CJokjR-FdWk/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link/">Marklo and GHB</a> drawn by the perfect <a href="https://www.instagram.com/flatbreb/">Flatbreb</a> on instagram! 10/10 would commission again they look SO FRICKIN GOOD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three months. Three months and Marklo would be <em> gone </em>and while you matched his enthusiasm whenever he told you about his plans for freedom you knew he could tell you were terrified. </p><p>Despite his attempts to merge his friends and you together into a unit it wasn’t going well. They tolerated you as much as they had before and spoke as little as possible. They wouldn’t stick their necks out for you once he left and knowing there would be no one else after him had you in a miserable, trembling pile most nights, unable to think beyond the bullying and beating you were sure to endure once he was released.</p><p>The Highblood was another can of worms you didn’t know how to deal with. He was getting more and more irate with every night that passed that he was still enslaved. You used the shiv you had stashed there ages ago to wiggle into the locks but you didn’t want to force it in case it broke. He didn’t seem to comprehend that this was probably the only tool you had and once it was gone <em> that was it </em>. You didn’t create the shiv, you didn’t know how to make another one, and if it was broken inside of the lock it’d be even harder to dig out. Several times you starved him when you headed down there and he was a tower of blind rage, and only after the two of you argued for a day or two did you try again. </p><p>You had an idea while perched outside on one of the benches beside his friends when the lights flickered. It had been happening often and when you and Marklo were alone you suggested the lights could go out at the perfect time and you’d make your escape during a blackout. Marklo quickly shot that down as fate had already been pretty cruel to you and it didn’t seem like it would be doing you any favors in the future. </p><p>The two of you had a lengthy feels-jam that very night that involved not a small amount of crying on both sides. He had his face tucked into your shoulder and you sat in his lap eyeing the trolls that passed by the cell doors. His hands were loosely around your stomach and a whisper of a purr escaped his chest when you leaned back against him. “Promise me you’ll eat a deep dish pizza when you get out? In my honor. Or a super unhealthy burger covered in every topping imaginable.”</p><p>He chuffed out a laugh. “I’ll see if they won’t let me mail you a bit of food like they used to with those cakes in the movies.”</p><p>“Put a little file in it when you do. Slide it right beneath the bottom bun and the burger so I know where it is and I won’t break my tooth when I take a bite.”</p><p>His soft laugh faltered and he sighed. “Are you honestly going to try and…”</p><p>You nodded, good mood fading quickly. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Even if you know you’ll probably die trying? They’ll ship you elsewhere or put you on death row for even attempting if you don’t make it.”</p><p>You’d die if you stayed here. You’d die if you failed to escape. “There has to be one good ending for me.” You plucked his arms away from you and turned around, keeping your voice low. “I shouldn’t be here. I deserve at least one...<em> single </em>, good thing for me.” Before you could list off the cruelties that happened to you in your time here he made a quiet grumble. His lips thinned in a disapproving line and you jabbed a finger into his chest, “Besides meeting you of course. I deserve two good things.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes and nudged you back, standing to rifle through his drawers. “If I hear about you on the news I’ll be very upset.”</p><p>“You...shouldn’t.” You swung your legs over the side of his bed and shrugged, “I mean you probably will but-” you weren’t sure how to respond. Your escape would no doubt make channel one news or whatever the equivalent of the channel one news was now. You hadn’t seen television in literal years. You didn’t know if there was anything important you really missed out on but you’d find out when you escaped. “I want to say it’ll be okay.”</p><p>He stopped rummaging and shot you a bland stare. You put on a smile and he groaned, gathering up a towel and another set of clothes. “Let’s hit the showers.” Before you could even ask he started to leave his cell, “You stink like that highblood.” A quick stop upstairs to get your own clothes and back downstairs to the showers, Marklo offered up an idea. “What if you asked to hose him down? Under the guise of cleaning him up you get to spray him in the face and I don’t have to smell that purple bastard whenever we jam.”</p><p>“That bad huh?” You slid into an open stall first and peeled away your shirt and bra, “Humans don’t have the kind of sensitivity you guys do apparently. I mean yeah, it stinks but nothing I can’t live with.”</p><p>“Count your blessings.” He sneered, removing his shirt in one quick motion. “He smells like death and old food.”</p><p>The two of you showered in relative peace and went your own ways after.</p><p>The next night you brought up the idea of hosing down the highblood to the guards and they told you they would think about it. You sprinkled in the off-handed comment about how humiliating it would be for him and they told you they’d get back to you in the next few days. </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>You stuck with Marklo often, basking in the time you had left with softly spoken words and platonic touches. The times you weren’t with him or slaving away for pennies, you were cleaning up with the Highblood. You’d washed up his side of the cell and were eventually gifted a hose, the guards warning you that should you try to use it as a weapon of any type they would take you down on the spot. Or, should the Highblood use it against you, there’d be no way for them to save you.</p><p>Surprisingly, he wasn’t as opposed to the idea of being hosed down beyond the initial squawk of indignation but you know you’d rather take a bit of humiliation than live in filth personally. Perhaps he thought the same as well. </p><p>You held the spray where he told you to and averted your eyes for some semblance of politeness. It wasn’t as though he could take his clothes off with the numerous chains holding him down - <em> thank goodness for that </em>you had a time and a half getting used to seeing Marklo naked you couldn’t imagine seeing the highblood nude - so he merely scrubbed his clothes the same time he pawed at himself. While the sprinkles of water that coated your arm and pants were icy cold the Highblood didn’t comment on it. </p><p>You were forced to use your own shampoo and in a last ditch effort to save some of your precious resources you decided to help him lather up his hair. There was so much of it, an impossible amount for one little bottle of travel sized shampoo to handle and the entire thing was emptied by the end. It was a hassle helping him. He would snarl whenever you moved behind him as though he expected you to attack him and because of the helmet, a good portion was unreachable for the scrubbing it so desperately needed. You weren’t surprised at the amount of grime and oil but it was still a bit unsettling. </p><p>How at odds must this troll be, to be manhandled by a human such as yourself but the relief of finally getting clean after so long. Well, clean to a certain point. </p><p>His mood improved drastically with every bit washed away and you took it as a bonding exercise. Once you helped him rinse the shampoo out, you used the rest of the time to fiddle with the cuffs around his wrist. Even though you were easily within reach he made no attempt to harm you. He merely sat and watched, wholly bored and chittering quietly to himself, yawning loudly not too far from your face. God, his breath. Feeling a bit prickly over his rudeness and needing a quick reminder that this troll was not your friend, you decided to test your luck. “When we get out of here you’re getting a toothbrush. I’m surprised your teeth haven’t rot out of your head by now.”</p><p>“<em> First </em> , motherfucker, they’re a lot sturdier than your dull-ass nub chompers, and <em> two </em>, they’ll grow back even if they did.” He stretched and you plucked the flimsy shiv away from the lock before he did something stupid and break it. </p><p>You propped your hand on your hip and sneered when he yawned again. “Oh yes, this must be so tiring for you.” </p><p>He muttered a ‘shut up’ and you gave up for the night. Putting away the shiv you gathered the hose and shampoo bottle, dropping it beside the food cart next to the door to wait for the guard. “Where are you goin?”</p><p>“Away from you.”</p><p>“Bitch get back here.” His hand beckoned you over and you stood your ground with a frown. “You’ve been all up in my fuckin’ space until now. What’s the problem?”</p><p>“I’ve had enough of you for one day. I have to see if I can’t figure out how to research picking a lock without making it obvious why and…” you shrugged, “Marklo won’t help me.”</p><p>“Your little pale friend?” He made a disgusted hack. You were about to snap at him but decided there was no point. Nothing you said made it through his thick skull unless you starved him and you’d already fed him for the night. “Does he know?”</p><p>“He only knows about my plan. Not about you.” You’d kept this secret from him this long. Would he leave not knowing of your weird alliance? Would you tell him before he left? Should you?</p><p>“Good. Keep your mouth shut. We don’t need some lowblood knowing. He’s a motherfucking liability-”</p><p>The way he spoke about him with disgust made heat flare in your chest. “Don’t talk bad about him. I owe him a lot. He hasn’t told anyone about my idea.”</p><p>“I don’t give a shit. Don’t fucking-”</p><p>The locks hissed and you headed upstairs without so much as a glance over your shoulder. He wouldn’t be eating tomorrow night. </p><p>Or the night after when he threw a fit over you scolding him about the importance of friendship and allies. </p><p>Day four he learned to keep his mouth shut and you fed him appropriately - from a distance considering he would hold a grudge and despite his arguments to not kill you he would certainly hurt you.</p><p>It was a surprise that on one of the later nights you went back down there you could smell blood and sulfur. As dark as ever, you couldn’t make out what exactly was wrong with the Highblood but you could certainly hear it. No matter how much you called for him he didn’t answer. When your eyes began to adjust you spotted him in an awkward sprawl on the ground, grumbling and wheezing in some sort of haze. The sound of each rasping breath put you on edge and compelled you to inch closer, worry gnawing at your gut at the thought of him lashing out in some sort of delusional rage.</p><p>Once you were close enough you saw one of his pupils were more dilated than the other, squinted like he couldn’t keep it fully opened. You nudged one of his arms with the tip of your foot and flinched when his horns scraped against the ground, the helmet scratching at the tile as he faced you. “The...f…” The massive breath he took sounded awful. It rattled deep in his chest wetly, the noise making your own throat tickle in a way that made you want to cough. “Bastard.”</p><p>Seeing as he hadn’t made an attempt to shove you away you grabbed a bowl of water from the cart and crouched beside his head, keeping his arms in your line of sight. “Hey...you hear me?” You weren’t sure if the gurgle he made was something involuntary or supposed to be a growl but your wretched heart ached with pity. You had never seen him like this before. He was infallible. Nothing could hurt the Highblood and yet...something had.</p><p>Against your better judgement you nudged the helmet to the side so you could help him look at you. “What happened?”</p><p>“Human...w...fu…” His eyes drifted shut and his words dissolved into alien gibberish, slurring at the end until he went quiet. He was either resting or passed out and you took the time to check out his body. There were deeper markings along the joints of his elbows and knees, several messy holes around his shoulders like something heavy had been jabbed inside, the skin around the openings jagged and caked with both new and old blood. The dim lighting probably hid other injuries and perhaps it was for the best. Whatever you hadn’t noticed yet were probably extensive and gory if they could bring down the Highblood.</p><p>“The lock…” He shuffled and you checked the cuffs holding him in place. The only thing you noticed was that there was some kind of chip near the welding on his right hand but you weren’t sure if that had been there before or not. Sinking to your knees to give the metal a closer look, you heard him hiss something questioningly. Apparently he wanted an answer and when you didn’t respond his whole body jumped into action. He <em> lunged </em>, yanking at the chains hard and quick so they let out a quick shriek of metal on metal. His arm swung up and caught you in the chest, sending you falling on your behind. With one hand hooked around your side he pressed his claws painfully into your ribs and stomach and dragged you closer, your shirt riding up along your back you hissed at the cold floor and his rough grip. </p><p>Your hands came up instantly and you braced yourself for the inevitable slice of his claws or deadly bite. You shouldn’t have gotten close to him. This was your own doings. You squinted, unsure if you wanted to see him attack you or not, and watched as he rose up partially, looming over you with his other arm curling above your head to prop himself up. His eyes slowly focused on your face and you were glad when he pried his hand away from your body. “Motherfuckers thought they did it this time.”</p><p>Something cold dripped onto your arms and chest, soaking into your clothes and oozing down onto the floor beneath you. It reeked of machinery and oil, a heavier musk and mist washed over your face and you were smothered by all the sharp scents. The amalgamation was smothering and you quickly became lost trying to think of what each one could be. “T...they did what?”</p><p>“Killed me.” His words were <em> venomous </em>. Three long seconds passed in silence and he started to chuckle. It was wet and crackling, gurgling in a way you expected him to start choking but he didn’t clear his throat beyond a rumbling inhale. “Like I’m gonna let...some...fucking aliens…”</p><p>You saw darkness peel out from the mouth of his helmet, landing mainly along your neck, several cold droplets flickering over your chin and cheeks. You reached up to wipe it away and found it was thicker than water but slick, it smelled...so much like blood. It lacked the harsh copper odor of your own and tinged with something foreign, something you had no name for. </p><p>Staring up at the massive troll you felt your insides squirm. He was heavily injured, bleeding externally and internally if it came pouring from his mouth like this. He couldn’t stand or he would be. He would be ranting if he could. The Highblood…</p><p>“Are you sure you’re not dying?” You whispered, dread starting to root in your stomach. He was your only way out of here. Your entire plan depended on him being your scapegoat. If he died you would have to come up with another idea and you would have to do it utterly alone. </p><p>He made a scoff and arched his back, multiple joints along his body snapping and popping as though they were grinding against one another. With a grunt he pushed himself upright and used the momentum to land heavily against the wall, his long legs slowly uncurling beneath him to stretch out. You sat upright and watched him for a moment, taking in the slouch of his shoulders and the sharp contrast of his hostile gaze. “Only way I’m...dying is through old age.” The edge of his teeth flashed in the dim lighting although most of it was hidden thanks to the dark pigments of his blood. He turned his head to the side and spit, the mixture chunkier than the liquid that came from his mouth earlier. “And I’m not old yet.”</p><p>He leaned heavily against the wall and shut his eyes. You waited where you sat for several long seconds, thinking he would wake up at any moment but a soft sniffle told you he fell asleep. He didn’t wake up after that. Not even the smell of food could rouse him from this exhaustion.</p><p>You waited out the rest of the time next to the doors watching him sleep and wondered if you should start working on a plan without the highblood’s involvement. It felt like hours passed, staring at the vague shape of his chest rising and falling, the sounds of his body struggling to let him breathe.</p><p>When the guard returned they didn’t say anything about the highblood but you knew they could smell the blood. You ventured into the kitchen to drop off the cart and heard the trolls in the cafeteria grow quiet, whispering to one another as if you couldn’t hear their conspiratory words. You didn’t know their language but recognized the inflection. They were surprised, shocked, maybe a few were frightened.</p><p>You knew you looked like a mess. Peeling your clothes away from your body you could see the purple blotches already stained your clothes, it smeared across your skin and left the parts it coated growing uncomfortably cool. The guards wouldn’t allow you to wash up and change - you’d have to wear the clothes until your Purpose was finished for the day.</p><p>No one spoke to you as you cleaned dishes and washed the kitchen. Despite the amount of time that passed the blood had hardly dried and whenever you crouched to grab something the sheer amount in your shirt made a squelching sound that you’d hope to never hear again.</p><p>As soon as you were dismissed you headed for the showers and swung by Marklo’s on the way, finding his cell empty. It had been a while since you showered alone but you wanted out of these clothes as soon as possible. You made a beeline for the bathrooms and trolls parted before you, either growing quiet like the cafeteria or chittering to each other about your wretched appearance. Almost inside the bend you heard Marklo call out for you, his own showering supplies tucked under his arm. His eyes went wide as he scanned you from head to toe and he whistled sharply, a proud smile on his face. “Did you fuck him up, Trollhunter?”</p><p>You didn’t know what to say. You backtracked toward the group showers, glad for his late appearance because you hated the “singular” communal bathrooms. “No.” You chose a stall at random and before the door even shut you were trying to undress. The shirt was heavier than usual because of the blood, it clung to your body and when you pulled it over your head the smell was almost overpowering. You threw it on the floor where it landed with a heavy splat and remembered to speak. “I went to feed him and he was...all messed up. There was blood all over him. He said something about the humans trying to kill him.”</p><p>“Wait, what, he spoke to you?” You were glad you had your back to him. You cursed yourself for the slip of the tongue and continued to undress, fumbling for something to say. “Humans tried to kill him…” He clicked his tongue. “I guess they failed considering you have yet to tell me that bit of good news. That would be a nice gift on the day I get out of here.” He wiggled free of his shirt and got a sleeve caught on the tip of his broken horn and fumbled. “As I’m walking out those doors I hear one of them say, ‘<em> you have a good life out there, don’t come back and oh, yeah, that bastard downstairs is dead and gone </em>.’ RIP you piece of shit.” He managed to free himself and set his shirt apart from yours. Marklo paused and stripped out of his pants, taking a moment to think before tossing it to the side. “You know, I could come up with a hundred ways to off him if I had the right tools.”</p><p>Thinking of the highblood’s death might have been a fun activity of the past but right now you felt dirty. You needed him - alive unfortunately and the thought of him dying before you could escape was a worst case scenario. You shrugged and flipped on the water, stepping under the spray before it had a chance to warm up. “Who knows why they keep him alive.”</p><p>“I might.” The wet slapping of his feet growing closer had you peeking over. His smile was so large you could almost see all of his teeth, his eyes crinkled at the edges from his sudden excitement. The lilt in his voice sounded like he was about to drop some juicy gossip and you stepped aside to shampoo your hair, using his supplies since you had yet to garner enough money to buy more for yourself. </p><p>“All right, so, I’ve been here a <em> couple </em> years now and I have a theory. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard about the highblood getting mangled but usually when we find out about it it’s because the one they send down there ends up getting hurt. The highblood probably doesn’t like looking weak I guess. Which makes me wonder about you again <em> but </em>I’m getting off topic. See, I’ve noticed a couple things.” He stepped under the water and started soaping up his body, pupils round and black. “None of the inmates have ever been into Section D. I would know if they did. None of the guards talk about that Section either. Only time I ever heard about it was when they were carting off trolls that died here for whatever reason. Or…” he spun around and tapped his head, “Whenever the electricity starts to go.”</p><p>You nudged him aside to rinse out your hair and tried thinking back on the times the power failed. “I don’t remember-”</p><p>“Because it’s been a while. Last time I remembered a full outage was just before you got here. Whole prison hiccuped and everything went on lockdown for about twelve hours, they didn’t bother letting us out of the cells that day since they were going to have to lock us right back in later.” He hurriedly ran the bar of soap over his arms and across his scarred chest, babbling excitedly.  “It’s a bit of a stretch but surely it isn’t a coincidence. The power outage going on whenever the highblood gets beat up, the guards keeping tight lipped about Section D? I have my share of information on the place but that is the one location I can’t find anything about. Which means they’re hiding something. Not just from us but from others because sometimes at night I’ll see different kinds of humans going inside but never a troll.”</p><p>It should have been endearing the way he droned on about this conspiracy theory he had clearly held dear to him for quite some time. But there was an edge to his voice, like he was bitter because he couldn’t figure it out and there was a chance he’d never know the truth. </p><p>“All four points combined,” you felt guilty that you mentally tapped out on the fourth point but surely it was interesting and added to his conclusion, “I think,” he ducked his head close to yours and glanced over your shoulder as if someone could be listening, “They’re experimenting on us. More specifically, on <em> him </em>.”</p><p>You wanted to argue with him. Surely someone would have noticed something like that going on. Illegal experimentation on prisoners - but you remembered most of these people were here for the long haul, not even a quarter of the trolls were ever due to actually leave here. No one would be checking up on them and if they did? They could just say one of them killed another and that would be the end of it. </p><p>You felt him grab your shoulders and pull you under the spray, hands working over your hair. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Explains why he’s even more fucked up then I heard him being. Highbloods like his kind are always unstable but he’s worse than anything I remember. I think getting chained down like the animal he is finally got to him.”</p><p>You tried focusing on the way his claws scratched over your roots, the way they plucked out tangles carefully, but the experimentation wasn’t something you could push aside. Maybe he didn’t always talk to shadows to burst into an explosive rage. Maybe he always had. The never ending darkness and isolation - the torture they must have put him through - certainly wouldn’t have helped his spiral into a deeper madness.</p><p>“Do you think that would happen to me?”</p><p>He opened his mouth and snapped it shut. “I want to say being human gives you a slightly better chance of avoiding Section D than it would anyone else but I’m not going to say there’s not a chance.” He shook his head and cupped your cheeks with an uneasy smile, “I think if they’re really doing experiments over there they’re doing it on trolls because of trolls.”</p><p>You reached up to grab onto his arms. “That’s still fucked up.”</p><p>“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” He dropped his hands and nudged you aside, going back under the spray. “It’s just a theory anyway. I don’t know for sure but it makes sense.” He let out a rolling sound and turned his chin up, “That anti-troll gun was created not too far from here when we first started to arrive.”</p><p>You didn’t know what to do with this information. It wasn’t like you could burn the place down or save these people. Most of them were actually criminals that deserved to be here, others, like Marklo were ushered here for crimes that wouldn’t warrant a life or death sentence. </p><p>You shook your head to get rid of all the terrible thoughts and ideas and went back to cleaning the blood off. Marklo helped wipe at the places on your face you had missed and when you redressed you couldn’t help but tread lightly around the guards. None of it was fact but the way Marklo spoke about it set your nerves on edge. He’d been here far longer than you had and he’d been allowed to the other sections, he had friends here and knew what was going on. It would do you well to take his words seriously, even if there was a chance he was wrong.</p><p>The next night you went down there and the Highblood barely spoke. He was in a dismal mood and accepted the cart with a low growl, eating everything in silence and shoving it all back to your side of the cell. </p><p>“What exactly did they do to you?” He merely stared at a darkened corner of the room and you cleared your throat, “Highblood?” He hesitated and slowly turned his head to you. “Did they come down here and hurt you?” It was probably your tone that set him off because he drew his shoulders back and shuffled straighter, a deep growl beginning. “I’m not pitying you. I’m just curious. Did they experiment on you?”</p><p>“Did they tell you?” </p><p>You couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through your body. “No. Marklo thought - he said he had a theory. The lights go out whenever you get hurt and…” you gestured to his body. “I wanted to ask.” The silence felt heavy. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and heaved out a sigh. He wouldn’t accept sympathy - not that you should have any for a monster like him. He deserved this. Everyone hated him for a reason. To ease out the weird air you told him, “You can’t die before we get out of here.”</p><p>“No shit.” He snapped. ”They can’t kill me. Just focus on making sure your own ass stays intact. If you get all fucked up when we escape I’m leaving you here.” </p><p>You nodded, somewhat relieved for his bad mood. “How’d they even hurt you?” It took ages for you to get close to him and make it out alive. Did they injure him from afar? Did they use guns?</p><p>He pointed at the tray. “Put sopor shit in the food. I forgot what it tasted like.” He tried to rub the back of his neck but the chains stopped him. He curled it into an angry fist instead. “Put a lot of it in there this time.”</p><p>You mulled over the idea of them drugging the food. So they got close while he was hazy. Maybe even asleep. “Are their visits random? Or do you do something that makes them do this?”</p><p>His hack was gravelly. “Fuck if I know.”</p><p>Well, you’d tell Marklo his assumption was right if it didn’t mean he’d ask how you knew. You took a seat and stared at him, wishing the room was brighter so you could make out the extent of whatever happened. “How do you expect to get out of here?” You hated that you were trying to lighten the mood but you couldn’t handle any more bad air.</p><p>“Same way I got in.” He made a weird gesture with his hands, “You figure out a way to get me out of these motherfucking cuffs yet?”</p><p>“Other than keep working at it? No.” You headed to the corner of the room where you kept the shiv and grabbed it, cautiously approaching. “Can I come closer?”</p><p>He barked out a no doubt <em> scathing </em> insult in his language and held his hands out, beckoning you closer. You went and fiddled with the lock, knowing the tip was starting to bend and chip. If you were lucky it would start to form in the correct shape and you’d be able to simply wedge it inside and turn it like an actual key. But honestly? Anything could happen. </p><p>The highblood bent closer to watch and you glanced up at his helmet, peering into the slots of his visor and terrifying mouth. You went back to work before he caught you staring but his sudden huff sent your heart in a panicked flurry. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”</p><p>“No.” Before he could argue you shot back with, “Do you?” His mouth shut with a clack. It was a heavy duty lock, aged and covered in scratches from the few times he was able to twist his wrists enough to claw at them. You understood the cuffs, he was unbearably strong and those claws were like knives, but what about that helmet. Every time you’d asked before he kept it cryptic. “So why didn’t they just muzzle you? It clearly wasn’t to keep you quiet since you can still talk.” He made a strangled sound. “What’s this whole get up for?”</p><p>“<em> Bitch </em>.” He hissed, “Once I get it off you’ll find out.”</p><p>Same vague answer as the last time. You hummed at the probably not-so-empty threat, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever looked at the lock on the helmet. They could be two different mechanisms.” You walked around his casual sprawl and froze when he snarled. His eyes were warning, narrowed cruelly you held up your hands. “What’s your problem?” You saw his eyes flick over to the shiv and laughed, “Are you kidding me? All this time and you think I’m gonna what? Go in for revenge? Stab you? What the hell could I do with this little thing?” You flicked it towards the corner of the room and watched it slide towards its hiding spot. You wiggled your empty hands and took another step towards his back, “I can’t work on it unless I see it. It could be easier than the cuffs.” When he didn’t speak you moved behind him and leaned over his body without touching him. He was so tall, you wanted to tell him to bend down but he probably wouldn’t listen. </p><p>You peered at the wild hair that covered up all the joints of the helmet and pressed your lips together. You could probably find it if you moved it out of the way but self preservation told you to keep your hands to yourself. You’d only helped him wash the hair he couldn’t reach and he handled the rest himself. You’d not touched it since. “Well?” He growled, peering over his shoulder.</p><p>“I can’t see anything. All your hairs in the way.” You headed around to his front and changed course back to the shiv, hiding it back in its proper spot. “Usually you’d need a bobby pin and a screwdriver I think. I...I don’t know if I can get anything else down here. They don’t have any forks or…”</p><p>“Motherfuckers got knives don’t they?”</p><p>You crossed your arms over your chest and wandered back to the door, “I can’t bring a knife down here. I got put in isolation just for touching one - I can’t steal one without someone noticing. Besides I don’t think two knives are going to work out any better than one. I need a thinner piece. It has to be sturdy or else it’ll break.”</p><p>He started to mutter and you toned him out, brainstorming quietly. There weren’t any springs in the mattress, it was all foam and fabric. You might be able to take something from the workshop the next time you went but there were so few things not nailed down you doubted it and the metal shavings would be useless. Maybe a thermometer from the kitchen? It was sturdy but also a bit large, you’d need to be extra careful hiding it from everyone and somewhere to put it. </p><p>When the guards came for you and you headed upstairs, it was easy to get into the swing of bread making. You measured and added, kneaded the dough and set them all aside covered for the yeast to activate. It was tedious and you eyed the utensils as best as you could without making it obvious. There were no forks, no spoons beyond the soup ladles. Tongs would do you no good. Same with spatulas and whisks. In no time at all you were finished and you grabbed a plate, hoping Marklo would show up to help you figure out how to pick a lock. You could say it was for your cell even though you knew it was also electronically bolted. Once you were inside you were locked in unless someone pushed a button. </p><p>You headed outside to stargaze and halfway into sitting down you froze at the sight of the chain link fence. You straightened, casually made your way over and peered out toward the other buildings. Your fingers traced the thin, cold metal and you gave it a light tug. It was thicker than you anticipated - and if you could get a bit of it torn off you could try to wedge it into the locks considering they were larger than the usual ones. It should be easy. Theoretically. None of this was actually easy so far but having this little bit of metal would help you much more than not having it. </p><p>Taking a seat, you leaned your back against the woven fence and started feeling around at the bottom blindly, one hand tugging up grass beside you and the other working near your behind. You stared up at the clouds and felt along the dirt, grime sinking under your nails. A jagged tip sank deep into your finger around the metal bottom and you froze, biting back any sounds of pain. After you stuck your wounded finger into your mouth to lick away the blood and dirt you went back to finagling with the end. You could try to bend it repeatedly, like you used to wiggle a spoon enough and it would heat up and break. After a while it felt like the fence was making noise, that someone would notice the slight jostling because no matter how much you bent the end the metal was <em> sturdy </em>. </p><p>Paranoia stopped you before you were able to break anything and you settled for slow, methodical twisting. Marklo was off with his friends manhandling one another and it was clear after an hour or so it wasn’t working. At least, it didn’t feel like it was working. All you succeeded in doing was getting two finger cramps and annoyed.</p><p>You stood, stretched, and headed back to your cell for the rest of the night to try and think of another idea, idly wondering of how you could hide anything stolen from the kitchen or hydroponics. Tubes wouldn’t be sturdy enough. The little plastic markers labelling the plants wouldn’t be much help either. Maybe you could tear apart some of the staples but they were so thin there was a chance they could break off in the lock as well.</p><p>Shutting your eyes you dreamt of being armless in a hardware store and woke up undeniably confused.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Y'all don't get your Authentic Sudsy Highblood Shower Scene™ until you get out of prison ¯\_(•̀w•́)_/¯<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Unfettered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You argue with the Highblood, get into a brawl, and try to make the most of the last few days you have left with Marklo.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Everyone keeps leaving such nice comments thank you so much!!! (♡∀♡)<br/>Editing this sucked I don't know why I was having such a hard time with it?? Sorry for how late it's been but I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Downstairs, after the Highblood ate, you brainstormed all of your dead end ideas. He didn’t seem too happy you couldn’t think of anything and after you told him you’d keep his food from him for the next week he agreed to stop his rant about how useless you were. </p><p>“I think the biggest problem is me doing anything out of the ordinary.” You thought out loud, pacing from one end of the cell to the other, “I’m not spontaneous. I only do a handful of things and I’m sure if I did anything out of the ordinary someone would notice. I can’t just start looking around for something to use - they’ll ask me what I’m doing.”</p><p>“What are you, stupid? You lie to them. If that’s too hard, start doing random shit then.” He hissed coldly, “Throw them off the game from the motherfucking start so when you do get caught it won’t be so obvious.”</p><p>You squinted up at him. “What am I possibly going to lie about here? They have cameras everywhere they can call my bluff whenever and - what - you want me to start acting differently for the sake of it?” He squared his shoulders and stuck his chin out. No, another bad idea. Someone would probably get upset with you for absolutely no reason and try to to start a fight. “Everyone here hates me as it is. I was literally doing laundry and got jumped - I don’t want to put anyone on edge by being random.”</p><p>“Who the fuck cares about any of this then?” He stood and rattled the chains as he flexed his hands into massive fists. “Get something from the workshop and bring it back here.”</p><p>“I won’t have anywhere to hide it!” You patted your fleshy body, hoping he’d get the hint that you lacked the proper pockets or clothing space to stash a tool of any kind. “I don’t even know what I’d grab-”</p><p>“<em> Well figure it out </em>!” He roared, slamming his hand into the wall. You hated how the room magnified his already impossibly loud voice. Your ears stung from the volume and you took a step back on instinct. His teeth were bared from within the helmet, breathing quickened and heavy. “Stop being a motherfucking coward and do something.” You were glad you were across the room when he prowled as close as possible to stare down at you menacingly. “All you have to do is break me out of these shackles and I’ll do the motherfucking rest.”</p><p>How nice if that would truly be the end of it. If you could leave everything up to the psychotic monster that probably wouldn’t know the meaning of subtly if it bit him in the ass. You settled your hands on your hips and wondered how much time you had left down here before the guards came. After so many months - years you supposed - you were getting pretty good at telling. “What would you do?”</p><p>He scoffed and took a seat, already his tone was condescending and it made the embers of anger flare that much brighter in your gut. “Since you can’t even gather what few fucking brain cells you have in that tiny skull of yours to figure out how to undo these chains...how ‘bout you leave that part to me. I wouldn’t want you to burn out your alien thinkpan before we actually get anywhere.”</p><p>You stormed as close as you dared just outside of his grabbing range to bark back, “Do you have any idea what’s outside of this prison? This isn't Alternia. This is Earth. You can’t go around screaming and slaughtering everyone you see or we’d end up right back in here. <em> You </em>will at least. You slip up one time and you bet I’m leaving your ass and going off on my own. You might have been hot shit back on your planet but here you aren’t anything but a freak they have chained up in the basement like the dog you are.” His eyes were blazing red, the rumbling in the room a horrendous growl rattling in his chest like an engine. “We need money. We’ll need transport and shelter and food and I bet you haven’t thought about anything past getting beyond these walls have you?”</p><p>He started shouting. “You don’t know what the fuck I’ve thought about-”</p><p>“<em> I bet it’s a whole lot of nothing </em> !” Your voice cracked when you shrieked to try and drown him out. You hated the liquid rage gushing through your veins. You hated the way your hands shook and how badly you wished you could do more than just shout at him from a distance. “I’m trying to make sure we get out of here in one piece and when we leave we don’t get caught but all you care about is killing and trying to be ‘oh so mysterious.’ Well guess what? All you are is a Grade-A asshole. We’re supposed to be working together on this and so far it’s only been <em> me </em> doing all the work. I’ve brought you food and kept you company and gotten you a bath you stinky-ass bastard and all you’ve done is bitch at me about not doing enough! We are <em> this </em>close to getting out of here and I want to make sure we do it right.”</p><p>You snatched the cart and wheeled it over to the door, heart pounding loudly in your ears. As soon as you broke him out you’d leave. While he did whatever crazed monsters like him did you would try to steal a truck and drive on out of here. You would never have to see him again. Never deal with him or this prison and it would all be some terrible memory.</p><p>The guard came and you headed upstairs. While working in hydroponics you debated on which tools would be the best to steal. Unfortunately, everything had to be signed in and out so the odds of taking anything like a little shovel out of here were impossible. The only thing you managed to get was a thin strip of plastic you snagged from one of the starter rims into your shoe when no one was around. It rubbed against your ankle something fierce and leaving for the night felt like a nightmare. Anyone on the cameras could have seen you without you knowing. If they frisked you they would find it and ask questions. Your whole plan could be set back because of one stupid little strip.</p><p>You felt a hand on your shoulder and spun around, shoving at the newcomer blindly. As an afterthought you realized it could have just been Marklo but instead of your moirail’s friendly face, Maryon slung an arm around your shoulder and started pulling you towards the courtyard. You dug your feet into the slick tile and his claws ripped through the clothing on your shoulder hard enough to puncture your skin. “Keep walking, Trollhunter.”</p><p>You noticed a few of the inmates peer over and with a hard pull your shoes slipped along the smooth flooring. Rather than being dragged across the blocks you began to walk and saw that others curiously followed. “What are you doing?” If not for your reputation you’d already be screaming for the guards. </p><p>“I want a rematch.” His grip was relentless all the way through the double doors into the outside and you ground your teeth together. You didn’t have time for this. He shoved you forward and you barely managed to prevent yourself from face planting into the dew covered grass. </p><p>There was already a crowd of twenty or so and growing, the air getting thick with bloodlust and tension. The clouds above blessedly cleared out of the way for the moon to shine so if you couldn’t placate him at least you wouldn’t have to fight him in the dark. You kept your shoulders relaxed and hands flat out to the sides. “I’m not going to fight you.” You wouldn’t win this time. </p><p>He didn’t even respond. He came fast and hard and you weren’t able to move out of the way in time. Maryon came at you for a tackle, head lowered, arms out to the side and one of his horns nearly pierced your throat but luckily it merely carved a line off of your shoulder. You went into the duck and wrapped your arms around his back as best as you could but the angle was all wrong. You scrambled for a hold and found yourself overpowered by his own weight and strength, flat on your back with your legs on either side of his hips. He tried pulling his upper half away but you held on tightly, wrapping your legs around his body you grit your teeth as his claws shredded through your shirt to tear apart your skin. It was hard to focus. If you shoved him back he’d still be able to pin you down but like this you wouldn’t last long. Your eyes watered and it took everything not to shout out in pain, your legs tangling with his, you fought to flip him over.</p><p>He was bigger than you. He knew how to fight. You couldn’t handle his claws shredding your flesh any longer and shoved him off, wedging your knees up when you had enough room between you. One leg slipped out to the side but you kept him at a distance with one knee squished up to your chest. He shoved it to the side and you went with the roll, managing to get on your hands and knee you shot up but he was quick to grab your ankles and drag you back into the dirt.</p><p>This was hell. His weight settled over your backside and your desperate clawing at the ground did nothing to help you. In one strong yank he tore apart the back of your shirt and you felt the cooler air mix with your sweaty body, sending a chill down your spine and your hairs standing on end. The clouds quickly obscured the moonlight and you were plunged into darkness. You could barely make anything out in front of you and dug your fingertips into the dirt for one final pull.</p><p>“What the hell…”</p><p>While you caught the way Maryon’s voice wavered you couldn’t dwell on it. You managed to hike up your hips and get another knee beneath you, shoving him off and sprinting a few steps away. You turned and held up your fists but by that time he was on his feet and due to the dark lighting you never saw the fist coming.</p><p>It cracked your nose instantly and sent you reeling, the meaty crunch and sudden rush of hot blood pouring down your mouth and chin tipping the scale of blind panic that much closer. You could hardly see him and heard the trolls cheering close behind you - far too close for comfort. You stumbled and listened for his footsteps, catching on too late when he threw another punch and clocked you in the side of the face. You used up your luck when you made a blind grab and caught his horn, dragging his head closer as you went in for a quick throw that landed square on the mouth. You felt his lip split but also the back of your knuckles when they caught on his teeth. Holding on tight you grabbed the other horn and tried to bring up your knee but two arms locked around your waist and scooped you straight off the ground.</p><p>The crowds booed. You were flipped head over heels and your neck cracked when you failed to escape the masterfully done suplex. Your legs ended up and over your body, your back twisting painfully you flopped to the side and wrapped your entire body around the foot that kicked you in the stomach.</p><p>God you wished you’d pass out. Everything hurt. This probably hadn’t lasted long but you were done. Your lungs were aching, it was hard to breath and spit dribbled down to mix with the bloody mess on the lower half of your face. You caused the second troll to stumble and fall and you crawled up his body, shoving his face into the ground you sat heavily on his shoulders and wrapped your hands around his throat.</p><p>Maryon lunged. The world lurched and you felt yourself teeter on the mental edge. You felt warm and cold at the same time, your limbs were shaking and felt like static. You flailed and fought against the two but they were so much stronger than you. You weren’t sure what was happening. You couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus-</p><p>You grabbed onto whatever you could and <em> pulled </em> and when something snapped one of the trolls let out a gut wrenching howl of pain that made you and one of the trolls freeze. You broke something but you weren’t sure what. You weren’t even sure what part of them you grabbed but it felt hard, somewhat warm. Rough - <em> like Marklo’s horn - </em>you heard more footsteps rush for your awkward sprawl and gave up. You curled into a ball when someone held onto your leg to prevent you from standing and felt two bodies on yours pressing your cheek into the dirt, your neck bent at a painful, awkward angle.</p><p>The crowd erupted in a series of alien shouts and howls and you weren’t sure what happened but you were stepped on numerous times. Bodies tripped over yours and only when the weight of the two trolls lessened did you peek out from beneath your arm to look around. The clouds cleared a fraction to allow you sight of an all-out <em> riot </em>. </p><p>You found your bearings and stumbled to your feet, bumping into bodies and getting caught between claws and horns you squeezed between two guards making their way outside and ran to your cell. Halfway up the stairs you tripped at a bold grab at your foot and fell, elbows cracking into the steps. You rolled on your back and shoved at the hands that wrapped around your throat, the nails that dug into your jugular. Beyond the throaty stench of your own coppery blood and the ache all throughout your body this moment felt like death. It felt like being thrown about by the Highblood. </p><p>You struggled like a trapped animal. You flailed madly and sobbed, tears pouring down your cheeks unbidden. Maryon’s blood-red eyes were focused on you alone and his hands were gripping you so hard you could feel them trembling. Darkness speckled your vision and you scratched at his face, doing little against his thicker skin your weakness kept you from doing any damage. You felt his teeth sink deep into your wrist for your final efforts and felt your energy drain away. </p><p>You flickered into a black abyss and strangely enough found a sort of...peace. The weight of his body on top of yours and the hard angles of the stairs against your back faded to nothing. You couldn’t move and felt frozen in space, time put on pause while you blinked up at a strangely familiar darkness. The shouting of the guards and the noise of the inmates faded to an all consuming silence and it was after thirteen long seconds that you heard music. It was far off in the distance and muffled, the beat unknown but the rhythm slow enough to match your sluggish heartbeat.</p><p>A large hand dropped onto your shoulder and a second curled around your back, fingers digging beneath your underarm. A third grasped your upper arm and you were slowly being dragged along flat ground towards an unknown location. Slowly, the music grew louder and you struggled to crane your head back to see if you could make out anything in the darkness.  </p><p>Red and yellow lights were glimmering like reflections on the surface of water against the incomprehensible sky. The woodwinds or chimes - you didn’t know what you were hearing the instruments kept changing but the rhythm stayed the same - ticked louder by the second and another hand carefully cupped your cheeks. You felt two thumbs rest below your eyes, the hands rough and icy, so much larger than your own you felt claws press beneath your eyes, the points like a dagger's tip.</p><p><em> Trollhunter </em>. The voiceless voice called, the hands shrinking and growing warm, the nails dulling into blunt tips like your own. They caressed your body, tugged on your limbs, sinking along the dip of your back and the joints of your limbs exploring almost every inch. There was a clinical feeling to the touches, never remaining on one part for too long beside the multiple hands dragging you toward the music and the ones on your face.</p><p><em> Trollhunter </em>.</p><p>Your body bumped into a solid force and all the hands froze, removing themselves from your body one by one. The music faded and the darkness started to shift into an ugly off white, smearing across your vision like a disgruntled painter, the world swayed and throbbed.</p><p>“Trollhunter <em> if you don’t get up </em>!” Wrenching into consciousness, the sharp slap to your cheeks had you nearly shrieking in pain. Your face felt broken and your sides were tender and wet, your vision blurred from all the tears and you clawed at your throat as an afterthought, shoving away the troll on top of you.</p><p>Presic glared down at your body and she stood, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Get up and get back to your cell!”</p><p>You didn’t know what was going on but who were you to argue? You stumbled to your feet and she ran past you downstairs, letting out a warning hiss to someone far behind. Each drag of your legs felt like you’d run a marathon at top speed and when you made it to your cell you dragged the gate shut and sank to the floor in an ungrateful heap. </p><p>You were being choked out and then what? Had Presic saved you? You saw more guards rushing past your cell and only one paused, shouting something over his shoulder he pointed at your lame form before heading back into the fray. Two burly trolls unlocked your cell and you moaned pitifully, shutting your eyes.</p><p>They scooped you from the ground and toted you along the infirmary hallways you’d seen countless times before. You were dropped on a bed and given a shot that had you knocked out in no time at all.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>This was your final warning. Even though you weren’t the one to instigate the fight the fact that you fought back at all gave them grounds to send you to solitary for eight days along with a heavy threat that if you so much as threw a single punch they’d send you to a supermax prison. You’d be in a small cell 24 hours a day with a tiny toilet, a shower, and a twin-sized bed. It’d pretty much be isolation for the rest of your life sans the meals they would give you. </p><p>Isolation was the same as before. Monotonous. Empty. Lonely. Nothing to do but think and thanks to your wounds you couldn’t pace or exercise like you had the first time. Hours passed sleeping but the ones where sleep wouldn’t take you were endless. This one wasn’t the same room they put you in the first time around but the layout was identical. Even if you didn’t spend as much time in isolation as you had the first go around, the days blended together under the fluorescent lighting all the same. </p><p>A guard woke you up with a warning hiss and slapped a pair of handcuffs around your wrists, shoving you back along the path you came before you could even wipe the sleep from your eyes. You saw Marklo passing by your cell and despite the exhaustion in his eyes he flicked up a hand to wave as you were shuffled onward.</p><p>Others had taken up the mantle of feeding the troll in the basement and when you were deemed well enough it was your job once again. </p><p>The first thing you noticed upon entering his cell were the new splatterings of orange and green on the ground. The Highblood’s chains rattled as he sat upright and caught the cart when you rolled it over. “I told you not to get yourself all fucked up.”</p><p>You sat down on the spot and fell back to stare at the disgustingly filthy light high above your head. The air was as cold and stagnant as you remembered, the smell nowhere near as bad as it used to be the stench of troll blood was now the most overpowering odor. </p><p>A bit of bread popped you in the side of the face and you reached up to wipe out the crumbs from your hair. “Answer me motherfucker.”</p><p>“What?” You sat up, taking care to be gentle for the sake of your bandaged torso. “I’m...thinking.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>You sighed shallowly, anything deeper would hurt. “He’s leaving this week.” You held up a finger, “Before you say anything, this means a lot to me. I-“</p><p>“I know it does.” You whipped your head around to see his honey-colored eyes stare down upon you. His tone wasn’t smug or disgusted, just a matter-of-fact attitude. “Once he leaves we’re out of here.” Oh. So not sympathy but excitement for the future. You scowled. His eyes squinted as though he were smiling behind the mask and he stretched in his bindings. “Spend time with your shitty low blood friend while you can cause you are <em> never </em> gonna see him again.”</p><p>The very words hurt your chest. He was all you had. Your past was hazy and your recent memories horrible other than the time you spent with him. You never even got to buy him a farewell present - you were far too poor for the basic necessities as it was.</p><p>“So where’d you go this time?”</p><p>You assumed he meant your disappearance and you wrapped an arm over your abdomen, telling him vaguely of how Maryon tried to fight you and someone started a riot. While you were trying to get away - “fucking coward” he snapped - you were almost choked to death but Presic and Raikut saved you. You had lost the bit of plastic you stole when you fell on the stairs and as well as your shoe. You hadn’t been able to steal anything since and while the fence was starting to bend it was still sturdy, the protective coating starting to flake off. </p><p>The Highblood kept the cart and you quietly ran over all the possibilities of breaking out, rubbing at the gauze and tape around your throat. His deep rumble pulled you from your thoughts, “You aliens have acid don’t you? Can’t you bring some down here?”</p><p>“I doubt there’s any metal melting acid in a prison.” You muttered, going silent right after. The strongest chemical you had was bleach. You knew it could do damage long term to your skin but what about metal? You’d have to collect the liquid somehow and carry it all the way through your Purpose and hoped it wouldn’t dry out by then. Then again, working on the fence would take up your last minute bonding with Marklo. You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment and held out the bottom of your shirt to tug on the material. </p><p>“You got an idea, Lil’ Bitch?”</p><p>“I think I do.” You got to your feet and walked over to him, holding out the side of your shirt. “Cut a little bit of this.”</p><p>Although watching his claws draw close to your body brought ghost pains to the surface, he did as asked and a long strip of fabric was torn apart. You could dunk this in some chemicals and drip it onto the metal - or wrap it around it if it needed to sit. You tucked the ripped side of your shirt into your pants and patted down your clothes, wincing slightly. </p><p>“None of that shit.” He suddenly hissed, “You better not fuck this up. I agreed to wait until your little motherfucking friend got out. All you gotta do is-“</p><p>“I know.” You bit back, leaning on the cart and glaring up at him. “The plan hasn’t changed since the first time I saw your ugly mug.”</p><p>“Motherfucker…” he laughed and settled down, flexing his hands in and out of fists. “Then get it done.”</p><p>You tugged the cart but he grabbed onto the end, keeping it in place. You weren’t in the mood. In pain and angry, you gave it a lackluster shake and let it go. “You’re an ass. You know, if I break you out you’ll owe me. It’s like a life debt.”</p><p>“Owe you?” He ducked his head low and snarled, “I’m helping you break out. That makes us even.”</p><p>You were still pretty sure he would kill you if he got out. Maybe you could do something to buy yourself time and put some distance between you two? You’d think more on it while you worked and shrugged, putting a hand on your hip to ease the sudden ache along your side. “If you say so.” </p><p>“I do say so.”</p><p>You turned to wander back to the other side of the room and the chains rustled, your only warning before his hands wrapped around your body to pull you back to him. “Get the hell-“</p><p>“Easy, motherfucker.” It was unsettling to be manhandled so easily. You had gained a little bit of bulk from working out but nothing outstanding - regardless - he plucked you straight off the floor like someone would a pet and set you in - “Easy!”</p><p>“Why am I in your lap?!” You shoved at his arms but anything strenuous caused your stitches to throb. You bit the tip of your tongue to bite back a yelp of pain.</p><p>“Cause I wanna see.” He held you until you stopped fighting. His hands settled around your sides, his pinky fingers resting on the curve of your hips and his index and middle slipped partially up your shirt. His hands were cold, so much more so than Marklo’s you shivered at the touch and snatched his wrists as your hairs stood on end. “I’m not gonna do anything with your nasty ass body if that’s what you’re worried about. Who knows what motherfucking alien diseases your lowblood self has.”</p><p>“Fuck you.” You hissed, body heating with rage when he tugged up your shirt to see the bandages. “Get off!”</p><p>He only laughed, breath surprisingly warm as it ghosted along the back of your neck. His fingers pushed roughly into your sides and you arched away from him, the tenderness so sharp and agonizing it brought tears to your eyes. He didn’t seem to care, dragging his claws towards your front to play with the tape against your skin. “How long’s this gonna take to heal?”</p><p>With a squeeze that felt a little more malicious than curious, you snapped and grabbed one of his fingers, wrenching it back towards his wrist. He caught onto your rebellion and released you instantly, your weight settling fully onto his thighs. “A lot longer if you don’t stop!” You cupped your side and gave up on standing when he held you closer, hand pinning you to his body whenever you squirmed. “What even brought this on?”</p><p>“Figure I might as well get used to being close to your disgusting motherfucking bod since we’ll be spending time together. <em> Desensitize </em> myself now.” You hated the way he said it like that. Like it carried a weight that made him physically ill to even say, drawling the syllables heavily. The Highblood messed with the bandages to the point where one patch came undone and you let out an indignant shriek, startling him enough that you managed to escape his hold. </p><p>You spun around and worked the bandage back into place, the air tingly against your raw flesh. “Don’t fucking touch me.”</p><p>The sound that came out of his throat was something you hadn’t heard before. You’d heard plenty of his growls, both short and long and the rumbles of his laugh but this was...smooth? The edge was lost. Almost as though he was making a considerate hum but his vocal cords wouldn’t let such a soft sound come out of his wretched mouth. </p><p>He stared at you for a bit and gave the cart a tap, practically daring you to grab it. “I’ll do whatever I please.” His body twisted this way and that, joints popping meatily in the enclosed room. “Will your fucked up body be a problem when we get out of here?”</p><p>You didn’t know. The stitches didn’t seem like the type to dissolve, they might need to be removed at some point and the dressing changed. It could take a few days or a few weeks. “It might.” He <em> snarled </em>. You grit your teeth and a muscle in your throat twitched, “I still need time to unlock your cuffs. Calm down.”</p><p>“If it takes you that long to-“</p><p>The locks hissed and you both turned to the door. It seemed too soon. Time hadn't passed by that quickly and two guards stood in the doorway, their silhouettes a dark outline against the lights in the hall. “Trollhunter. Get the cart.”</p><p>You turned back to the Highblood and his eyes were a dark crimson, pupils shrunken to minuscule slits. Why were they here so early? You walked closer and froze when he faced you. His eyes were wild, his presence overwhelming, the air around him thickened time a dangerous haze and preservation started to take hold. </p><p>You took a step back and cocked your head to the side. “Don’t do this,” you whispered, holding up your hands. He wouldn’t look away. Behind you, the sound of dual footsteps told you the guards came into the room. His attention whipped over to them. “Hey…”</p><p>“Now, Trollhunter!”</p><p>His lips peeled back to flash his teeth through the little hole in the helmet and you slowly grabbed the cart, dragging it backwards to the door. The Highblood lunged and you stumbled over yourself, taking the cart with you. He tried stealing it but only managed to snatch two plates. A bowl rolled off of the surface and clattered loudly against the floor. A guard snatched your shoulder to throw you out of the room and the other shoved the cart out of the way, planting a boot over your stomach roughly when you hit the ground. “Stay down.” He held up his baton menacingly and his other hand hovered over his pepper spray.</p><p>You nodded quickly and held your hands out to the side. You wouldn’t fight them. You would be obedient. </p><p>You heard the guard in the cell shout something but it was cut off abruptly. There was a wet crack and a snap, the troll howling in pain. You shut your eyes and heard the guard on your stomach shout at you to not run off and the weight disappeared. </p><p>You stayed on the ground and listened, hearing cursing and the Highbloods deafening roar. You were tempted to see if you could lift your head to peek at what was happening but decided against it. A boot collided to your side and you rolled away from it, groaning through your teeth. “Get upstairs and call for a doctor!”</p><p>You got to your feet and stumbled, head spinning as vertigo struck. At your feet, the guard was on his knees above his human coworker, the side of his face bloodied and already swelling. The man didn’t look good. While you couldn’t see any blood he was knocked out cold and there was a peculiar indentation at his throat. You turned and ran as best as you could to the elevator before he could yell at you again and headed upstairs, telling the first guard you saw what happened.</p><p>They took you to the observation room for questioning and sent a few people downstairs to help. You told them the truth and they sent you on to your Purpose. Taking care of the plants helped settle your nerves a bit, the lovely green foliage and eggplant flowers soothing and completely harmless. You weeded and watered, the tension in your body almost gone by the time you refilled your fourth bucket. </p><p>You spent longer than necessary in the storage room, skimming over the ingredients on the chemicals they had lined up on the shelves quickly. You were sure nothing here was harsh enough that it could corrode metal. When your Purpose was done you headed to the mess hall for a meal and settled silently beside Marklo while he spoke to his friends, glad for his company even if you didn’t have his attention.</p><p>After lunch you split apart and headed outside, taking a seat by the fence to work on the firm joint you managed to bend slightly. Marklo approached too quickly and you thought it might have been an attack but his laugh calmed your nervous heart. “So...still at it, huh?”</p><p>You drew your hands on your lap and glanced down to your scratched fingers. “I have to.”</p><p>He sat down beside you and bumped your shoulder, “I-“</p><p>“Can we-“ You both went quiet at the same time and he held his hand out for you to talk. “Can we go back to your cell?”</p><p>He smiled softly, brows drawn together in a pitying stare. “You sure?”</p><p>You stood and nodded, dusting off the damp grass blades from your behind. His legs were drawn towards his chest, elbows resting on his knees. You offered him a hand, “I’d rather spend my time with you.”</p><p>He didn’t reach out and after a bit you let your hand drop to the side. His focus shifted beyond you to the rest of the courtyard and you glanced back just in case something was happening. “Trollhunter.” His voice was a warning whisper, soft and curt you could practically feel his anger through his words. He curled his hands into fists and stood on his own, coming chest to chest with you. </p><p>“Yes?” His hand was rough around your wrist as he pulled you back into the building towards his cell. You nearly stumbled when you accidentally clipped the back of his foot with the front of your own but he didn’t seem to care. With a toss toward his bed you sat down and made yourself comfortable, “Tell me about your-“</p><p>“You aren’t strong enough to break the fence. You’re weak. Not even a troll could tear it apart.” He stood before you with his shoulders squared and his lips in a disapproving frown. “Have you thought about how you’re getting out of here? Like, really thought about it? You can’t fight your way out. You can't run. You can’t climb over the walls.” </p><p>You peeked behind him to make sure no one was close enough to hear and swallowed. “Kind of. I almost have it worked out.” Your plan was a mess. You waved him down and despite knowing the Highblood told you not to tell anyone you could trust Marklo. He knelt beside you and faced you fully, his legs tucked to the side and partially underneath him. “I’m going to steal one of the vans that come in. During inventory I’m going to head outside and try to distract the guard, or knock him out somehow-“</p><p>“<em> Somehow </em>?” He pressed, crowding your personal space with his face. “How?”</p><p>“Probably hit him? You can knock people out when you hit them in the head. I just have to be careful not to kill him-“</p><p>“With what?”</p><p>He wasn’t letting you think. His tone was bitter and you jolted at the fingers that clutched the back of your hand in a death grip. “Uh, a can? I can take something off the shelf-“</p><p>He scoffed. “What about the guards? They won’t just let you grab something and run. They have guns.”</p><p>“I’ll try to be sneaky about it.” You leaned back but he kept getting closer, one hand settling over your gut he pressed down and you groaned, shoving at his chest.</p><p>“What about this? How fast can you be with these injuries?”</p><p>“I-“ It <em> hurt </em>. He pressed cruelly into the bandages and you recoiled from the jab, desperate to ease the pressure “Stop.” He wouldn’t do this for no reason. You grit your teeth when it clicked, “Fine. I get it. I’m unprepared but-“</p><p>“But nothing.” He sat back and twisted your wrist to the side, holding your hand between your faces. You turned your focus on the shallow cuts on your palms and the lighter strips of sliced skin. “You’re smarter than this. I know you are.” His irate attitude softened to another whisper. “Like you said, you’re hard to kill but that doesn’t mean you're invincible.” He tugged your hand between his own and his fingers dug deep against your palm, massaging the rough, reddened skin. “What about their numbers? The guns? What about the other inmates?”</p><p>“I…” you could tell him. You should. You were going to get the help of the Highblood and you were going to escape. “I can try and make a diversion.”</p><p>He sighed and leaned forward, bumping his forehead against your hairline. You shut your eyes and squeezed his hand. His skin was cool against your own flushed and sweaty self. He smelled like oil and body wash, the detergent they used to clean everyone’s clothes. “You might have been able to fool me but...actually.” He suddenly slid from the bed and waved you over, “I want to see something.”</p><p>You followed him out of his cell and towards the kitchen, squeezing past the cooks and cleaners toward the back pantry. He quickly looked around, grabbed you, and pulled you inside, shutting the door after him. He checked along the walls and behind the shelves, growing irritated when he couldn’t find something. “What are you looking for?”</p><p>He shushed you. A few seconds longer and he snarled, “Whatever! I heard something when you fought with Maryon and I wanted to check it myself.” He slung open the door and as you reached out to stop him the lights flickered. </p><p>He paused to watch the bulbs hum and you bumped into his side, “How about we take a shower? I can give you a massage to calm down?”</p><p>“I need to calm down?!” He hissed, eyes shifting from a cool yellow to a burnt orange. You hadn’t seen that in so long. He started walking, shoes striking the ground hard as he stormed past the workers and towards his cell. No matter how many times you called him he wouldn’t listen and only when he had no where else to go in his room were you able to grab him. He pushed you and that harsh and damning denial had you rushing at him, wrapping your arms around his body tightly. The two of you fell back onto the bed and you held him while he struggled, desperately trying to get you off.</p><p>One of his hands grabbed your face and you took his fingers into your mouth, biting without much force as a warning. He started cursing you in his mother tongue and wriggled, flipping on his back you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed.</p><p>It took a while, his hushed cussing growing louder into a bark of rage but he eventually grew still. You thumped your head into his shoulder and sighed, “You good now?”</p><p>“Trollhunter I don’t want you to try and escape.” You carefully peeled your body off of his and he stared at the wall, refusing to turn to you. “You <em> will </em> die.”</p><p>His chest heaved and you stretched, shocks of pain sparkling along your body from the effort of fighting him. You squeezed in front of him and leaned back against the wall, cupping his cheeks and coaxing him to raise his head. While his eyes were back to their golden yellow his body was still arched and hands curled into fists on his thighs. </p><p>“I’ll at least be able to visit if you stay here.” He continued, reaching up to hold your hands against his face. “Probably not often but you can talk to me. We can send letters. I can mail you gifts.”</p><p>You bumped your forehead against his and heaved out a long breath. “I distinctly remember you saying you didn’t want a relationship with anyone in prison.” His eyes grew round. “You deserve to have someone you can see anytime you want. I’m not going to say I won’t sob like a baby when you leave or say this is for the best because I want to be selfish...” You brushed your nose against his and felt lighter from the contact. His easy presence and acceptance soothing your nerves. “But I want what’s best for you.”</p><p>He leaned forward and flopped overtop of you, chest vibrating with a stuttering purr. You hugged him and ignored the pain from being squashed if only to hold onto him longer. “You’ll go out there and get a better moirail that knows what they’re doing. You’ll get to decorate your apartment instead of a stupid prison cell...“ your voice wavered and you grabbed a fistful of his shirt, reaching up to run your fingers through his coarse hair. His hands tightened around your torso and he pushed his face into your neck.</p><p>“You’re not a bad guy, Marklo.”</p><p>“You’re not bad either.”</p><p>You laughed but it sounded as fake as it actually was. “I want to believe that. No matter how hard I look for some secret evidence that doesn’t point to me I can’t find it.” You didn’t want to talk about this. This wasn’t about you. This was about him. “All you have to do is not steal or beat up cops and you should be good.”</p><p>The bubbling laughter was heartwarming. Honest and tender, you felt it melt away your worries and leave a bittersweet fondness. “I’ll be more careful.”</p><p>You two stayed like that for some time, curled up in a tangle of limbs and cotton candy affection, until he remembered your injuries and pushed himself upright with an apology. “You wanted to shower right? Pretty sure you said you’d give me a massage…”</p><p>You rolled your eyes and stood, popping your back until it gave a tingly throb. Perhaps you should take it easy for a few days. “Yeah, I <em> guess </em>.” </p><p>You thumped his shoulder and gathered your supplies, the lights flickering once more in the wash racks as you started the water. Marklo’s bare feet tapped against the damp tile and you stripped down to your underwear. “Let me help take the bandages off and when we’re done I’ll help you to the-'' the lights suddenly shone bright and with a pop you were plunged into darkness. “Infirmary. Hm.”</p><p>You were glad for the red emergency lights that came on, a dull shine coming from tiny industrial bulbs installed between the main lights. You held your hand and batted at the few drops that spit from the faucet. “I didn’t think the water would go out. Do we head back upstairs for the lockdown or do we stay here until we’re found?” </p><p>You rubbed what little you collected on your face and felt a tiny bit cleaner. A full shower would have been lovely. You struggled to a crouch and picked up your pants and shirt, stepping into the legs one at a time. You couldn’t hear him moving behind you and squinted over your shoulder. “Marklo?”</p><p>The two yellow reflections were your only identifier that he hadn’t left the shower. “Hey Trollhunter…”</p><p>You hummed and slipped your shirt back over your head but his hand touched your shoulder to stop you halfway. “What is it?”</p><p>His hand went down your back, his fingers trembling as they trailed down your spine. “I think I believe you now.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>The quickened thumping of heavy boots on the tile filled the showers and you quickly gathered up Marklo’s clothes to hand over. He was in a haze, lost in thought - you hurriedly helped him redress and squinted at the white light that beamed you in the face. His hand shot out to grab your wrist when you left the stall and he held onto you all the way to the cells, only letting go when the guards snapped at him. </p><p>You were escorted upstairs and glanced back over your shoulder to see him still watching, hands curling around the bars of his room before he was out of sight. </p><p>Once inside they locked your cell and you sighed, stretching out on the bed to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. What else was there to do but get lost in your escape plan and when you stretched your arms high into the air you saw a glimpse of bluish white. </p><p>Your arms were covered in hair thin lines curling intricately over your joints up to your shoulder. You glanced down your shirt and saw more of the lines, thicker and angled. There was a chaotic beauty in the lines and although it was hard to see, you were fairly certain they were tattoos. You were about to wonder how you’d never seen them before but the only time you’d been in darkness was downstairs as the last thing on your mind was your body when the Highblood was so much of a threat. </p><p>You spared a glance out toward the cell doors and pulled up your shirt, feeling along the glow in the dark tattoos curiously. A guard thwapped the metal on your door with his baton and you jumped when he called out a number. </p><p>Well, whatever. He left and you put your shirt back into place, feeling the tattered edge absently. </p><p>Maybe you could ask Marklo if he had any ideas about what to use as an acid. Rolling around to put your back to the door you caught a whiff of yourself and wondered if he’d be down to try and shower again tomorrow as well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Also, Marklo's aggressive interrogation was inspired by the time my friend was trying to teach me self-defense and came at me so fast I panicked and couldn't even do anything.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Until Next Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You knew this would happen eventually. Fate was kind enough to give you a friend in this place but eventually he would leave. <br/>You take what time you have left with Marklo and make the most of it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Smaller chapter before the big event that comes next!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marklo told you vinegar helped rust metal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After you clawed off the protective covering on the metal links you soaked the fabric with white vinegar you found in the kitchen and brought it outside. It wasn’t exactly secretive, although small, the smell was potent but no one called you out on it. That very night once you made it outside you wrapped it around the bend in the metal and waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In one day it was rusting, bubbling and turning a coppery brown you could barely hold in your excitement. It would take maybe two days and it might erode enough for you to snap off in no time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo took a seat beside you with his arms over his knees, his fingers laced together tightly. “What do you even need this for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You bit your lip. “Is it all right if I don’t want to tell you so if you ever get questioned you can honestly say you didn’t know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment of silence and he nodded, then quietly added, “I’d lie for you though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As nice as that confession was - it felt as though he changed somewhat. He said he believed you and didn’t elaborate on it, giving away information that would help free you so much easier than he ever have before. You felt blindly along the soaking fabric, the odor sharp and repugnant. Nerves wriggled inside of your limbs like living things and you felt like you had to say something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it works out I hope I can like...send you some mail or stop by for a coffee.” He opened his mouth and you cut him off with a wave of your hand, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>joking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I know we probably wouldn’t be able to see each other again. If I went missing they’d probably come straight for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were filled with apprehension. The excitement and dread like a live wire of electricity. You were so close. You’d be breaking out of here with or without the Highblood - preferably without but you would never know. There was still a very real chance he’d kill you if the guards didn’t. All of this might just lead to a literal dead end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like a message maybe.” He said in a small voice. “Knowing you were okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You grinned, jitters fading as warmth gushed through your body. “If I can find out where you are? Absolutely.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You spoke about nothing in particular, he gave you hints on how he got away with a lot of his thefts in the form of casual banter. He explained how to get cash at pawn shops, of the type of people to look for and the escape plans you’d need to make in order to get away with it all. You felt bad knowing you might have to resort to robbery but you hoped for the best while preparing for the worst.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Downstairs you felt the tension growing. You regretted telling him how close you were to getting the fence because whenever you would arrive he’d perk up and he’d get restless when you told him ‘not yet.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lil' Bitch, you have no idea how eager I am to get my hands on all these motherfuckers.” He purred, eyes a darkened haze. His massive hands flexed and you fiddled with the shiv, watching him with a half smile. His enthusiasm would be endearing if it wasn’t so disgustingly bloodthirsty. He babbled endlessly on all the “pain and suffering” he’d unleash and you hoped he’d only focus on himself during the breakout so you could make a clean getaway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, remember when we get out you’ll have to reign it in after. We have to be stealthy. It’ll be hard hiding you since you’re so big but if we travel at night it’s less likely humans can spot you.” You dug the tip under your nail and cleaned out a bit of dirt. “If I can make a request don’t hurt Marklo’s friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They lowbloods?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hesitated and turned your attention to him, catching the way his dead cocked to the side. “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No promises.” He answered quickly. He roamed in the little space he could and drew in a massive, long breath. “All you gotta do is stay the fuck out of my way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if they stayed out of your way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No motherfucking promises</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You sneered and he was quick to catch on, dropping to a low crouch with his knees bent out to the side. “Thought you only had one little pal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do but they saved me from this douche upstairs so I owe them.” You weren’t sure if he understood kindness and mercy and chose to elaborate. “You know, when people do nice things for you you do nice things back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He seemed to think about it and before you even saw a glimpse of that metaphorical lightbulb shine he ruined it all with a casual, “Sounds like shit. Why should I waste my time when I didn’t ask.” You should have expected some smarmy answer like that. You toned him out bitterly but he didn’t seem to know when to stop talking. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you ask for help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His patronizing tone had you bristling. “I was too busy being choked to death.” Hopefully that was the last time you’d deal with Maryon or any of his little cronies. You were glad when he muttered in his own language so you could better ignore his berating comments. You rubbed your neck absently as you remembered the way his claws felt digging into your skin, his grip shaking with exertion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long do you expect it’ll take to make it to the portal?” He called suddenly, your fingers ripping away from your throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’d thought a bit about it. If it was by foot it would easily take months since you had to avoid populated areas. By a car - which you would have to steal - maybe a few days give or take if you took backwoods roads to avoid toll booths. You couldn’t risk being identified so night would be better but then there were the chances of police checkpoints... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe a few weeks.” Better estimate a larger timeframe so he wouldn’t get too upset if it took longer than you believed. He made a quizzical grunt and you rolled your eyes. “When the sun rises and falls it’s one day. When it does that seven times it’s one week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hissed, “Your planet is nowhere near as large as ours why’s it take so motherfucking long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While you thought of an answer you wandered closer to check out his restraints and he offered his wrists without preamble. Good, the more he worked with you the easier this would be. You didn’t know how to answer him without getting snippy. There were plenty of reasons why it would take so long. You were trying to escape. People would be looking for you. You’d be on the news. You were across the </span>
  <em>
    <span>country</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end you settled for a bland: “Because.” You would tear apart the metal on the fence tonight and work on the locks tomorrow. As an afterthought you added sharply, “I don’t know how to pick locks so even when I bring it here don’t expect it to work out that night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He growled and the door locks hissed. You backed away from him and gathered the cart, heading outside of the cell alongside the guard. Upstairs you went to work in hydroponics and mourned the loss of Marklo when you couldn’t spot him at lunch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s his last run.” Presic told you as she sat down a few seats away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” You pushed your food around a bit and smiled, “Thank-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t. I’m just telling you so you’ll stop looking all mopey.” She didn’t even turn to you when she spoke, she simply ducked her head and went to eat, taking spoonfuls of whatever she ordered into her scarred mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your smile faltered and you ate silently, emptying your tray and heading outside beside the fence. Your fingers worked at the rough metal and you wrenched it back and forth, feeling the coarse material grow loose bit by bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You perked up at quickened footsteps, bracing for the worst, and Marklo slung out a foot to gently hit your shin. “Thought you’d be out here.” He plopped himself down beside you in a fluid motion and stretched his legs out. “Four more days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Four</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Your heart twisted at that little number and your hands stilled. Here you were working when you could have been doting on him inside while you still had the chance. “Can we go back to your room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed, all teeth and squinted eyes. He put you at peace and his mere presence helped tone down your worry for the future. “How about we go back to my room once you get this taken care of.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You frowned but accepted his answer, listening to him talk about some soap opera where the dead woman that was supposed to have been killed by a group of friends was actually alive and somehow dead at the same time. A zombie soap opera? No, he said they stressed it was entirely different. You didn’t see how and when you were asking about any new movies he might have seen you spotted Maryon across the yard with a bandaged head and glowing red eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ignore him.” Marklo snarled, settling a hand on your shoulder, his attention fully on the troll being growled at by his friends. “He won’t come after you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that.” You countered sharply, bringing up one knee in an awkward splay. “He really hates me. I think the second you leave he’ll fight again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not if you get out of here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You perked up and smiled, bumping his arm with your own despite his forlorn expression. “You’re right.” You vigorously wiggled the metal piece and rocked back and forth, knocking into his arm again to hide your frantic yanking. “I’ll dye my hair and get it cut. I’ll avoid cities and-“ You jumped at the sharp snap and grinned, dragging the sturdy length over your fingers to feel the shape and curved jagged end behind your back. It wasn’t very large, perhaps a bit longer than your palm’s width and the tip a hard edge with two jagged points. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo smiled, eyes flicking over your shoulder and back onto your face. “Got it?” You nodded and curled it in your fist, getting to your feet with a well earned stretch. He hopped upright and cracked his back loudly, “You still wanna go back to your cell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You trailed after him eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement. It was just small enough to be unnoticable in your balled hand and you held it close on the way upstairs. Marklo was quick to knee you in the behind and nudge you onto the bed so he could crawl in beside you, both of you wriggling to find the best position for two people on the tiny mattress. Finally comfortable, he started the conversation by asking a very important question. “Tell me what you’re going to do when you get out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You told him everything that popped into your mind. You’d stop by a library and see what you missed out on in three years. You’d check your friends and family and see how they were through social media. The space - the freedom - the food - you rambled on endlessly in excited whispers until a guard knocked his baton against your cell and told you that it was time to sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You untangled yourselves from each other and bid him a goodnight, hardly sleeping from how eager you were to get to work on the final step toward freedom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You were lead downstairs after a trip to the infirmary to check your wounds and remove the gauze. The Highblood was a grumbling mass at the back of the cell so you kept your distance. “Why the long face?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused in his squirming and curled up into the corner of the room, “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a figure of speech. What’s got you so antsy?” You could hear the lilt of your tone as you tried to avoid telling him the good news. You wanted it to be a surprise. Not too big of a surprise that he’d get upset if you didn’t break him out the first attempt but enough to put him in a nicer mood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter.” He jerked his head toward the cart and you wheeled it over, tapping a beat against the handles. He was willing to answer your questions and hadn’t threatened you so his mental state was probably solid enough tonight. “You get that fuckin’ bar yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact…” you pulled the metal rod out from behind your back with a smile. His eyes went wide and he instantly abandoned his food to lean closer, a curious rumble coming from his chest. “I have it right here-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands went around your body far too fast for you to avoid him. The ground was whisked out from beneath you and half of the food on the cart was knocked into the floor when he dragged you closer and held out his cuffs. “Come on motherfucker! Get to it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You smacked his hands away and dusted yourself off with a scowl. “I thought I told you to not manhandle me.” He only shook his wrists. “It’ll still take me a bit to get the locks off so keep your pants on.” You wandered across the room closer to where the chains were locked to the wall to get your shiv. Since you’d cleaned the room, there were only a handful of spaces to hide it when you left and you decided you’d kept it in a place no one would look - right next to the beast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn't moved an inch when you left and kept perfectly still as you fitted the two pieces next to each other. He lowered his head to watch and in no time at all the rancid stench of his breath was too much for you to handle. You reached up to shove at his helmet and he luckily understood, leaning away with a warning snarl. Still riding the high of excitement you decided to test his nerves. “Bet you’re mostly excited for that toothbrush, huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut the fuck up</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lil’ Bitch. Keep working.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You stopped your hands and arched a brow. “You’re really going to pick now to give me attitude?” You flinched at his sudden lunge and held up your hands, going back to work in silence. He didn’t touch his food for the entire duration and after his first threat ten minutes in you countered it with the fact you told him you didn’t know what you were doing. This was a trial and error. You weren’t a criminal and this was new territory. You’d only ever seen this done in movies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shifted your weight from one foot to the other several times, the concrete flooring hard and unforgiving beneath your shoes. “First thing we do when we get out is get as far away from this place as possible. No killing or screaming. No being a creep. You have to stay quiet and listen to me because this is my planet. I know how to get around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably only ‘cause you looked it up.” He bit, the edge to his words not as sharp as you expected. “Once I get a hang of this shitty place I’m giving the orders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You paused when your fingers cramped, popping your digits one by one to rid the sensation. “You’ll ruin us if you do. Just listen to me and we’ll make it to the portal.” He would ruin everything too. You did not doubt for a single moment if he took the lead you’d both either be dead or end up back in here under worse conditions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Motherfucker, you couldn’t even handle one lowblood. You think I’m putting my way out in your tiny ass hands?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are now.” You countered, haughtily working at the locks again. A bit of finangling and something shifted and </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You gasped and the Highblood leaned in close to see what had happened. His movement caused you to bump the lock and you felt it pop back out of place. You inhaled sharply to snap at him and heard the locks hiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You shoved the tools at him for him to hide, scrambling backwards toward the door and grabbing the cart. He easily hid them in his fists and watched the door open, drawing himself back to loom as high as he could in the room. You wheeled the cart out and went to work making licenses, worry churning in your stomach at the thought of the next three days. You hardly felt like eating when you were finished and went to his cell. Trolls around you grumbled at your presence but left you well enough alone, fortunately. When you came up to the heavy bars you almost doubted yourself. It didn’t look at all how it did before. It looked…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Empty. You stepped inside and saw the two cardboard boxes at the foot of his bed, neatly filled to the brim with all of his belongings. His pictures and posters were taken down, his drawers partially opened and husked out of their belongings. You spun in a little circle and took a seat on his bed, staring at the vacant spot his calendar used to be. You sat there for a while, taking in the emptiness of the room, and eventually got to your feet. Marklo might have been out still or looking for you. You’d usually be in the mess hall looking for him around this time. You drug your feet out into the massive corridor and glanced over your shoulder, wondering how childish it would be to snatch something of his as a reminder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are.” Marklo’s voice was soft, you turned to see him licking his lips, the few crumbs on his shirt told you where he’d been. “I thought you might have gone outside but…” he brushed up against your shoulder and smiled at his cell. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m happy for you.” That much was true. He would get out of here through hard work and punishment spent. He did his sentence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed a shoulder and pushed you toward the end of the block, then up the stairs. “Let’s talk about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You groaned dramatically despite the lump in your throat. He got comfortable on your bed and patted the spot beside him, eyes half-lidded in ease with a smile on his lips. “I’m not gone yet. We can still hang out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You mumbled a bit, dropping heavily beside him when he nudged you closer. You curled up on your side and dropped your head into his lap, staring out beyond the bars of your cell to the trolls wandering by. They were always with someone. There was hardly a solitary troll here and you could pick out their conversations if they chose to speak english. Some were arguing, most just chatting to one another, a few bellows of laughter rang higher among the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t know what to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You rolled around and stared up at his simple smile. It was bittersweet. He was excited about leaving but obviously this little gesture proved he was still willing to help you while he could. “You know what time you’re leaving?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About nine on Friday.” His hands went to your cheeks and he gave them a rough squeeze, hard enough to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> - you smacked him away and rubbed your face to rid the sting. “Don’t know why you’re so upset. You’ll be leaving too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was true. You blew out a sharp breath, thinking about how close you were to freedom yourself. He would be out there settling down, starting a job and decorating an apartment while you’d probably be sleeping in a gutter with an alien that would probably kill you on the first night out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You ignored him and reached up, urging him down to you so he was practically folded in two to hug his face. He grunted and squirmed, pulling you up partially to settle his own arms around your shoulders. He hissed something in another language and knocked the side of his head against yours. “You’re being sappy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You glanced to the cell doors and decided it no longer mattered. “Can I give you a kiss?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>trilled</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A warbling noise came from his throat like a purr mixed with a bird chirping. You laughed at his wide eyes. “I was wondering when you’d do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You leaned forward and pushed your lips to his temple. The smell of his shampoo filled your nostrils and his hair tickled your cheeks. You savored it, no matter how brief it was, and felt his own lips press to your cheek tenderly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he bit your cheek and ruined the moment. It wasn’t a hard bite, just enough to spook you and you shoved at him with a groan. He laughed, quickly gathering you up in his arms you fought him briefly by kicking your legs into his stomach. One good shove however sent the two of your tumbling into the floor to wrestle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You lost as expected but put up a fight this time, your forearms tender from his rough grabs and his hair mussed from your flapping hands. Marklo straddled your body and he put his palms on both sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together. “Feeling better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” You mumbled, half-lying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His casual attitude was rubbing off on you and he knocked his forehead against yours. “When you get out of here, if you can, look me up. Even if you can’t stay for longer than a day I just wanna check up on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You grabbed onto his horns and he let out a squawk. “Bet on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bit of fumbling and eventually you parted, speaking about nothing in particular while until it was time to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see if I can’t swing by on my way out.” He told you, lingering at the cell door. “So turn in early okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t get to see Marklo the next day thanks to documentation signings and sloughed through the night in a haze, mournfully thinking about tomorrow’s goodbye. You woke up in pain from sleeping in a strange position and your neck throbbed where they took the stitches out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Highblood kept his grumbling to a low, uncaring of personal space as he scooped you closer to work on his cuffs no matter how much you wanted to stay at a reasonable distance. Whenever the first spring would snap back out of place the two of you would hiss and mutter. You tried taking short breaks to calm down and gather yourself before trying again but you had to keep them short. You were working on a time limit and you both spoke to each other as little as possible during and after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You worked in hydroponics, ate lunch at a table by yourself, and for the first time in a long time stargazed from your abandoned spot by the building. The stars were obscured by clouds but the full moon bright enough to peek through the gray and scatter light upon the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On your way back inside after a few hours you stopped by Marklo’s cell and saw him standing before a familiar opened calendar. “So, tomorrows the big day.” Your voice came out as more of a croak than anything and he spun around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure is.” He waved you over and slung an arm around your shoulders. “I don’t think I’ll be able to say bye in the morning so I’m glad you’re here now. I was going to try and hunt you down right after this.” He slapped the calendar shut and hend it out with a smile. “Here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You took it carefully and felt the cool plastic cover, thumbing open the pages for a peek. It was over halfway filled, the marked off days ending in September and tomorrow’s date had a little drawing of clouds and trees. You felt your chest ache and hugged it to your body, “Thank you.” You’d use it and keep it close. Once he left this was all you’d have of him beyond your memories unless you found him again somehow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to sit here or hang out in your cell?” You wordlessly slipped past him to take a seat on his mattress and he nodded, plopping down beside you. “So do you know where to go when you get out?” His voice was barely a whisper and you had to strain yourself to listen. He told you road names and routes, suggestions on where to hide and when to move, places to scavenge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You nestled against his side and felt a little better about getting this time to say goodbye. Even at the very end he was helping you and you wished you had something to give him as a gift. Trying to focus on the brighter side your voice wavered as you told him, “I hope everything works out for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He buried his face into your hair and laughed. “I hope so too.” His lips pressed firmly against your forehead and you groaned, stretching up to wrap your arms around his neck. His hug felt like safety. Like comfort and protection, a sturdy rock to brace yourself against to keep you standing no matter how many turbulent waves try to take you down. His cool body felt almost icy against your flushed cheeks, the warmth almost aching deep in your chest where your heart fluttered like a trapped bird. You wanted to go with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nice to fall to the side together and curl up, saying nothing and soaking in each other’s presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes ticked by and eventually the warning bell for curfew went off and your grip tightened. “You better not end up back in prison. I mean it. You’re too good for this place.” His chest bounced in a silent laugh and you pushed yourself back to look him in the eye. “Promise me. Even if we aren’t morals when you leave, as a friend, promise me you’ll be good and won’t end up in trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sparkling eyes faded at your words and his tiny smile was bittersweet. “Even if we aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>moirails</span>
  </em>
  <span>...I promise I’ll do my best. I don’t want to come back here either.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sat upright and he did the same. His hands dropped between his legs to grip the edge of the mattress and knead it in his fingers. Outside of the cell trolls hurried by to get to their own rooms before they got in trouble but you didn’t care about that. You wanted to be with him as long as you could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re going to have me make promises I want you to make one.” You turned your full attention to Marklo and he reached out to set his hand on top of yours. Whatever he said you’d give it to him. You fought for each other, comforted one another, you doubted he’d ask something impossible of you and gave a firm nod, ready for whatever he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand squeezed yours hard and only lessened a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it’ll be hard out there and dangerous but keep your eyes open and be careful who you trust.” He stood and pulled you to your feet, hand still gripping yours tightly. “So forget about everyone and just take care of you. Don’t you humans have a quote like, be good to yourself cause in the end you’re all you have?” He bumped his forehead into yours and you could hear a rumbling hum in his throat. “Be good, Trollhunter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards started to wander and one shouted for you two to break it up, giving you one chance to get back to your cell or he’d drag you there himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marklo nudged you toward him and stood there smiling, eyes half lidded, one of his hands pulled up as if he were going to reach for you or wave you down to say one last thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end he didn’t. You left to your room and stared at the small window near the ceiling on your cell until morning came and night followed, staying awake in the small chance he’d say one more goodbye on his way out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only one to come by your cell was a guard to lead you to the kitchen for Feeding.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*See you again by Wiz Kalifa plays from another room*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Outbreak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Everything falls into place for your escape and with the Highblood mostly uncooperative, you brace yourself for the worst as you take the first step toward freedom.</p><p>Here's hoping you make it out alive, with or without him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's finally happening. </p><p> </p><p>Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments on the last chapter!! ♥<br/>Also a quick reminder that this is a violent fic and this chapter in particular is pretty violent compared to the other ones.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once inside of the cell you dragged the cart over to the other side of the room, leaving it nearby in exchange for the shiv and metal bar to start on the locks. They were cold and chipped but surely it was in a good way, the ridges helping you get the right angles to hold the weights in place. You dropped to your knees and went to work on a wrist lock, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting as you wiggled the metal curl deeper inside the opening. The first gauge was easy and the second was a bit harder but by this time you got them in place fairly quickly. </p><p>“Your little friend leave?” The Highblood’s voice made you jump and you heard both of the bolts snap back out of place. His eyes were on you, the limb you were working on pinned to the front of your thighs so he wouldn’t move. You forgot to talk to him to figure out if he was crazy today or not. What if he was and he snapped and this was your end? Would he really have enough awareness to not kill you in that psychotic state? </p><p>“Yeah.” Your voice cracked. “He’s gone.”</p><p>He hummed but kept quiet. You went back to work, the first spring moving properly, then the second. You didn’t remember grabbing the Highblood to hold him against you like this but he wouldn’t have done it himself. Usually he wanted to see you work and it would be impossible for him to watch at this angle. </p><p>You thought about Marklo. It was hard not to. He was getting interviewed and lectured, allowed a change of clothes and probably on his way to the courthouse right this moment. Would he be thinking of you too? Did he miss you? Would he write you letters like he said he would or would you be out of here by the time any of them were delivered?</p><p>Your shaking hands caused the third spring to snap out of place and the Highblood let out a disapproving hiss. You ignored him and hunched over, sniffling quietly.</p><p>“Motherfucker if you don’t stop that whimpering shit-“</p><p>You yanked the shiv out of the lock and while you didn’t look at him or even point it in his direction the implication was there. You sniffed again and bolstered your emotions deep down to get back to work. Time passed and eventually the Highblood’s humid breath washed down the side of your face to hiss, “You better hold onto that bravery when we get the fuck outta here.”</p><p>You didn’t undo your hard work this time, hands pushing harder against his chains to hold your fingers steady. You bit back any retort you had and curled deeper down, eyes focused on the little opening in the metal cuff. </p><p>Click.</p><p>The fourth spring snapped into place. There was only one more to go. There had to be only one left. You were so focused on distracting yourself you didn’t know when the guard would arrive. “Have you been keeping track of time?”</p><p>“You got a bit left.” The Highblood told you, “Why?”</p><p>You didn’t want to rush and pulled the metal back, practicing with the fourth and third spring. “I’m getting better.”</p><p>He must have picked up on your vague answer. “Tomorrow?” The way his tone rose, the deep thundering rumble of his voice coming off as an exuberant drawl almost made you smile. </p><p>You removed the shiv and metal, easily setting the first spring in place, the second, and fumbling a bit with the third again. You were almost there. You needed to work out the details with him and brainstorm escape routes - then again, he said he’d take care of that part wouldn’t he? Did he even remember saying that? </p><p>“Maybe.” The excited buzz in your veins was too much to focus with and you put away your tools a few seconds later. “So, how exactly are we doing this-“</p><p>“I got that shit planned the fuck out.” He drew in a deep breath, the air seeping through the metal slot on his mask hissing sharply. “I got big motherfucking plans for this place. All you gotta do is stay the fuck out of my way and I’ll find you after.”</p><p>That sounded an awful lot like what he said last time. “After what?” He mentioned something before about his ideas for when he got topside but kept you in the dark before too.</p><p>His chuckling was gravelly and cruel. “It sounds to me like you’ve got some doubts. Lay it on me Lil’ Bitch, I don’t want you running like a coward when we get out of here.”</p><p>You were sure there was a deeper intention to his consideration but chose to take it for what it was. “We need money.” He squinted and you cleared your throat, more than willing to talk abouw what you needed. “It’s these greenish-yellow bills we use for currency. We can’t use cards or they’ll track us so we need to...I don’t know. Try and find someone to rob when we get out. <em> I </em> will at least since I doubt you’ll let them walk away.” Not to mention he was probably too large. He would be spotted instantly. </p><p>“Fuck no I won’t.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes, “Murders will put them on alert and we don’t need anyone finding us.” You wandered to the cart and brought it closer, the food on top untouched. “We might not be able to eat for a bit so fill up while you can.”</p><p>He scooped up a plate and stabbed the grub loaf with a long claw. You couldn’t help but flinch at how easily it sank into the spongy layers. “You aliens got any decent food?”</p><p>You couldn’t believe you had forgotten about getting a meal. Finally you’d be away from grubs and grains and alien vegetables. You practically salivated at the thought of buying fast food. “We have...<em> so </em> much food. All sorts of nationalities and cultures filled with different textures and flavors...”</p><p>The locks hissed and the Highblood casually began to eat. You wandered away a good distance before the door opened and met the guard at the entrance. She glanced between the cart and the troll and then over to you. You shrugged, “He’s taking his time today.” Since you couldn’t very well pry it from his hands you were forced to wait until he was finished. The troll's casual time-wasting left you with an annoyed guard that snapped at you to hurry up and deliver the cart to the kitchen as soon as you made it to the top of the elevator. </p><p>You were sent to laundry duty and folded each shirt by size into piles and colors, taking your time with the larger sizes. The biggest trolls you had seen were the ones that spent their time working out, luckily leaving you alone other than an occasional warning growl. The biggest pair of pants they had was still not enough for the Highblood. Maybe you could get some needle and thread when you were out and make him some shorts? It would be easier to make than pants and checking the shirt sizes, you knew good and well the largest wouldn’t fit him either. </p><p>He’d need clothes once you escaped - both of you would. Wandering around in prison uniforms was a surefire way to broadcast what you’d done if the news wouldn’t tell them fast enough. The more you organized and straightened the worse your stomach felt. It would be you against the world and all you had was…</p><p>You quickly stuffed aside whatever thoughts you had of putting your hope in the Highblood’s obedience. If things worked out during the escape you’d leave him far behind and find that little podunk town you daydreamed of to live out the rest of your life in peace. You’d never do a single terrible thing in your life to draw officers attention or put anyone on edge. </p><p>By the time your Purpose was over you headed to the mess hall and found the air stifling. There was a haze of energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. Trolls were glancing at you more often, some obvious in their staring and others casting quick peeks over their shoulders, hissing something to their companions quietly. Were you going to get attacked again? Did they have something terrible planned for you?</p><p>You kept a straight, blank face and waited patiently in line, your heart picking up when the whispers grew louder and rushed. Could they block off the endings and kill you? You’d heard about something like that happening, the entire prison ganging up on a particularly cruel inmate or guard. Your hands shook ever so slightly when you took your tray and turned around to find a seat. So many orange hued eyes were focused on you. They were waiting for something. For someone to act or for some unseen signal.</p><p>You forced yourself to slowly walk to one of the tables farther in the back next to the trash cans and sat down. The tray was starting to get sweaty from how hard you were gripping the sides, your fingers almost unwilling to let the plastic go in case you needed to use it to protect yourself. No one spoke to you. Not a single cursing mutter thrown in your direction - at this point it was terrifying to not get them. The insults had been a staple of your prison living. </p><p>The nearest trolls at the surrounding tables kept you in sight until you took your first bite of some chowder. The taste practically nonexistent with how focused you were on keeping track of what the other inmates were doing. Which, equally strangely and horrifying, they went back to talk to one another. ‘Trollhunter’ was still being tossed about, hidden in their mother tongue but still recognizable at this point with how many times you’d heard it. </p><p>You ate, tasted nothing, emptied your tray and went back to your cell without a hitch.</p><p>It was a nightmare. The anticipation of something happening was worse than their usual treatment because at least then you’d know what to expect. This was new territory and especially now you were alone with Marklo gone. Mulling it over in your cell you wondered if that was the reason for their change. Marklo was supposed to be your moirail, he was supposed to keep you grounded and now he was gone. Did they think without him you’d snap?</p><p>The activity outside of your cell lessened than usual and you weren’t sure how to go on. Would it be strange to keep acting like usual and nothing was wrong - or would it be more weird to act like your loss didn’t change anything? You were certainly heartbroken but you’d spoken it over with Marklo many times. You got to mourn his leaving for weeks and made up for it by spending as much time together as possible. Not that you stopped missing him, today was the first day in his absence and it still felt like he’d be back eventually, but this was how things had to be.</p><p>You couldn’t stop him from leaving and you wouldn’t want to. You accepted this. <em> For now. </em></p><p>You weren’t about to go on a murderous rampage without him - especially not when you were this close to breaking out. You didn’t realize how much time passed until a guard came by to count and moved along. </p><p>You could barely sleep with how nervous you were for tomorrow and the guard made a face at seeing your disheveled appearance. “They sent a new inmate for Feeding. Head on to your Purpose.”</p><p>You weren’t sure if it was a blessing for the break or a curse knowing you’d just put it off for another day. You were sent to the kitchen for work but redirected to license making, cutting your finger twice on the same piece of metal that stuck out from the machine. You overheard the new inmate was killed and internally sighed, knowing better than to hope the Highblood would behave for a single night. The lunchroom was much like yesterday with the same air of hostility and preparation for your inevitable massacre.</p><p>Instead, you just ate your strips and absconded back to your cell. It was marginally easier to fall asleep this time since you hardly slept the night before but it was still a fight. You woke up throughout the day, catching sight of the guards that passed or listening to their footsteps meld in with the snores and chattering of trolls nearby. As much as you dreaded having to deal with whatever happened during your breakout, taking the first step would always be the worst.</p><p>You were fully prepared to go downstairs once night came and took the experience of the trembling elevator as if it were your first time. The way the cables creaked and groaned, the shivering of heavy metal beneath your shoes, the resounding clang of the structure when it finally landed at the bottom of the shaft and swayed ever so slightly.</p><p>You pushed the cart toward his cell and opened it, your heart stuttering at the sheer amount of dark orange slung across the floors and wall of the room. You were about to snap at him for ruining all your hard work cleaning but after today you guessed it wouldn’t matter.</p><p>“Motherfucker.” He sighed out, his words ending in a laugh. “Thought you went and did something stupid.”</p><p>He must have been talking about your disappearance. “Nah, just...” You ignored the smell of the troll blood and pushed the cart over. The Highblood had the tools in his hand at the ready and you went to work, fumbling for a few seconds until you managed to lock the first spring in place easily. The second. The third. The <em> fourth </em>.</p><p>The massive troll was practically breathing down your neck and you could feel his excitement coming off in waves. “They all like this one, Lil’ Bitch?” He breathed, “The locks?”</p><p>“Should be.” You almost forgot you’d need to do this several more times. “If they are then this’ll be real-”</p><p>The fifth latch snapped into place.</p><p>The heavy dual cuff went slack and you couldn’t stop the pure <em> euphoria </em> that gushed through your body at <em> finally </em>succeeding. You reached for the sides to pry it apart, still holding onto the little tools to make sure they didn’t bend from the mystery weight of the metal. It couldn’t be light, you could assume that much. The Highblood yanked his hand back and towards his body, the lock slipping out of your fingers striking the ground hard. Your heart went into your throat and you dove for the cuff, shoving it onto its side to make sure the metal and shiv were all right.</p><p>The Highblood released a deafening laugh and stretched his arm out, his words roiled and curled in whatever language but beyond knowing the demon was happy you didn’t understand what he was saying.</p><p>All you knew was that the cuff was off. You had done it. He rolled his shoulder and heaved out a sigh, “Aw fuck yeah.” He made one grab at his helmet, claws sliding underneath the metal and along the back once before fiddling with the other shackle around his wrist. “Next one, motherfucker.”</p><p>You slipped the tools from the cuff easily and gave them a once over. They were blessedly intact. “Don’t be so rough with them this time. If these break we don’t get replacements.”</p><p>“Shut up.” He snagged you with his freed hand and dragged you near his body, his arm wrapped across your torso to tuck you against his chest beneath his chin. “<em> Next lock. </em>”</p><p>You swatted at him for manhandling but it lacked much of the usual heat. You were simply too excited about the lock getting removed. “Hold your horses.” You found that while the lock was indeed similar, you were having a bit of a time getting the latches to stick. “I think you...chipped the tip of it or something.”</p><p>“Can you still use it?”</p><p>“Yeah.” You let the conversation hang in the air and felt the spring wobble in place, your breath caught in your throat. “Just don’t move.” Lock two eventually stuck and when the third slipped out for what felt like the hundredth time you glanced to the door. “We might have to hold off until tomorrow.”</p><p>“Keep going.”</p><p>“If we get caught-“</p><p>“Motherfucker keep going.”</p><p>The third would be the death of you. You made it to the fourth latch twice but it never lasted. You were so drawn into making sure nothing broke when the Highblood clicked his tongue it made you jump. “Time’s up.”</p><p>You handed everything over in time for the locks to hiss and backed away, following the guard upstairs. </p><p>You folded laundry in a haze, giddy and terrified of what was yet to come. No one knew what you were doing in the basement. You were on the cusp of freedom and not a single soul knew. You could try to steal one of the bedsheets on the way out but without any supplies to mend the ends together it would just weigh you down. You doubted new clothes was the first thing on his mind once you got out.</p><p>You ate quickly and retreated to your cell, falling asleep in restless phases. You would spend the rest of your money on a new shirt, a new pair of underwear if you had anything extra. Maybe a snack? </p><p>The next night came far too quickly and you hurried downstairs, the Highblood pacing back and forth as you stepped inside. He wasn’t even hiding the fact his hand was free. “What if someone came down here and saw you like that?” You barked, waving a finger to his wrist.</p><p>He brushed aside your comment as if it didn’t matter and took a seat, handing over the tools. “Today.”</p><p>You rolled your eyes and went to work. One latch. Two. Three. Click. Three. Click. <em> Three </em>.</p><p>“I’m going to scream.” You snagged his arm and curled over the metal, listening and feeling around for the telltale tap that it set. “Okay. Don’t move.” Four. Click. Three. Four.</p><p><em> Five </em>.</p><p>It fell away and you grinned, quickly removing the tools before they fell with the cuff. The Highblood pulled his arm free and stretched, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. You gave him a couple of seconds to enjoy his freedom and his eyes squinted down at you, mirth fading to something unknown. “I can work on my ankles alone. I want you to do this fucking collar next.”</p><p><em> Collars </em>. You almost corrected, seeing at least three segments around his throat. “Let’s hope they’re the same lock.”</p><p>Walking around his side you felt his piercing stare follow. It wasn’t as...normal as it was a moment ago. “Something wrong?”</p><p>He only grunted and turned to face forward. Somehow, despite not even being in his peripheral, it was like he was still focused directly on you. You carefully touched his arm to get him to duck his head for easier access and felt the muscles twitch. “Okay. What’s got you so tense?”</p><p>“Nothing motherfucker. Get to work.”</p><p>You put your hands on your hips, “It’ll be hard to focus with you getting ready to bite my head off.” His snarl made you take a step back. “See-“</p><p>His newly freed hand shot out to yank you closer. His fingers were long and his grip almost painful, the tips of his claws pressed roughly into your skin. “Come on!”</p><p>You grumbled but did as he wanted, coming up behind him and pushing aside all the wild hair. It was coarse, rough and tangled, and you mentally added a brush to your list of supplies once you broke out. Maybe several brushes.</p><p>The locks were unfortunately unlike his wrists, your poor night vision paired with the shadows of his hair made them nearly impossible to make out but feeling along the upraised metal you discovered it could be rotated. Slipping the metal pieces into the opening, you tried the previous finangling you practically memorized but this one was different. It felt heavier and with the new addition of the twisting… <em> whatever </em>... it was yet another puzzle you’d have to figure out. “I have no idea how to work these. I’ve never seen a lock like this before.”</p><p>“White-wearing motherfuckers twisted it a couple times.” You didn’t realize how your arms rested against his back until you felt the vibrations on your forearms. He spoke lowly didn’t he? You pushed yourself off from him and his shoulders seemed to dip a fraction as you made your way around to his front. </p><p>“So it’s like a combination lock?” You held out the tools and dropped them in his opened hand. “If I have to figure out a combination it’ll be impossible.” You didn’t know how many numbers the dial held or how long the password even was. </p><p>He traced his claws around the collars and up the side of the helmet. Despite knowing you had this weird truce, seeing him almost completely freed made you a little sick. He wouldn’t hurt you so close to freeing him but there was always the chance of his betrayal afterward.</p><p>He rolled his shoulders and glanced to the door, “Time’s almost up.”</p><p>“Tomorrow I’ll see if I can’t mess around with it to get an idea of what it is.” You stood next to the cart and couldn’t help but take a step back when he reached out to drag it closer. “What are you going to do if they send someone down here before I can free you? If you attack them they’ll find out about your cuffs.” He growled and you held up your hands. “Just something to think about.”</p><p>He didn’t eat as ferociously as he did before. With both hands now free he could hold the plate and finish off the food with less mess and more ease. He licked his lips and when the doors prepared to open set everything back on the tray for you to take upstairs.</p><p>During laundry duty you had gotten too comfortable. Someone approached from behind and wrapped a shirt around your head, yanking it hard enough to cut off your airway as it dug into your throat. You were pinned back along a warm body and struck three times in the stomach before one of your feet kicked them away. You thrashed and clawed at the troll's head behind you, the foggy world flickering until your head twisted in such a way so the fabric slid up your chin to let you wiggle free. </p><p>You stumbled when they dove back for some distance and threw the fabric aside, whipping around to confront them before you remembered you couldn’t get sent away now. If you did then everything you worked for would be ruined. The trolls readied their claws and fists, baring their teeth. You forced yourself to merely back away, coughing and wiping away the water from your eyes until a good distance separated you and them. </p><p>Apparently none of the guards saw and the trolls weren’t too invested in you to finish their job so they left you alone. That or your lack of a reaction threw them off. Whatever it was you were glad to slink back to your cell to rub at your neck and relax until tomorrow.</p><p>You almost regretted not getting food when you saw the Highblood’s tray the next night. You recognized a bit of whatever meat they gave them and felt your mouth water, weighing the risks of stealing a bit of his food or waiting until you were done with your Purpose today. In the end you wheeled it over to him and swallowed down your hunger. “You can eat while I work on the collars.”</p><p>“Like you’re giving me fucking permission.” He spat, dragging the cart between his kneeling legs. He’d have to sit on his behind and lean down again if he wanted you to reach the locks and were about to tell him as much when he continued with, “You kill ‘em?” You let out a curious hum and his hand came out toward your neck, thumb sliding over your jugular. Your hand shot up to smack him away but he was faster at avoiding you. You backpedaled and glared, fingers rubbing the tender flesh.</p><p>“No. I won’t kill anyone and even if I did I couldn’t. I’d get sent to isolation.” He ducked his head in a scathing hiss and you held up your finger to stop him in his tracks. “I get sent to solitary and someone else will get sent down here.”</p><p>He went quiet and you waited several uncomfortable seconds in silence until he started to eat. Stalking around the side you gathered up the tools and started brushing aside his hair to see the locks. </p><p>This effort felt less like success and more like a waste of time. You couldn’t hear anything spinning around the metal and no matter how you angled the shiv nothing was moved. There was nothing to catch or anything to push. You weren’t sure if seeing the lock would help but it surely wouldn’t hurt. Ten minutes of no progress put you on the edge of irritation and despair.</p><p>His low voice rippled up through the back of your arms from your spot leaned against him. He was muttering to himself, tapping the wall near his knees - although you didn’t know how since he wasn’t moving his body. You rolled the lock lazily, figuring all of your ideas were out the window now all that was left was trying random spins and wiggles. You spun it back and forth with your pinky and focused most of your attention on that little notch you felt within the slim space. The abrupt growl he let out told you it was time to distract him from himself. You thought of something meaningless to avoid an argument and settled with simple curiosity. “So, if you’re cold, how do you do in cold weather?”</p><p>His voice hiccuped and with a sigh he drawled out, “<em> What </em>?”</p><p>You nodded even if he couldn’t see you. “Like, we have cold blooded animals and they can’t function in cold weather since they can’t maintain their own warmth. Your body temperature is colder compared to mine so do you...are you comfortable in warmer weather?”</p><p>“Lil’ Bitch I have no idea what you’re saying.”</p><p>You sighed and gave the lock another lazy spin, “Nevermind.” </p><p>Was there weather back where he lived like there was on earth? Did they have rain and snow and heat waves they had to deal with? </p><p>“I don’t know much about your world but if we don’t make it to the portal fast enough we’ll have to deal with snow. Depending on where we are is how severe the weather…” somehow the lock shifted and paired with a spin something popped into place. You weren’t sure what happened or how, but you zoned in on the lock and started jiggling everything. After the second piston stuck you guessed it worked like a combination, with each lock sinking deeper once it accepted the correct turn of the dial. </p><p>The mechanics were insane. You hadn’t seen a lock like this before. It should have been impossible to get at these unless the Highblood cooperated - which was probably the point. Difficult locks stopped a deranged inmate and made sure no one could free him. He wouldn’t sit still long enough for anyone to try or to get found out.</p><p>Until you, that is. </p><p>Everything about the lock started falling into place after that and randomly pushing and spinning until it accepted the next segment had you progressing instantly. One of the collars went slack and the Highblood nearly threw you off with how fast he reached up to sling it off. You didn’t forget how quick he could be but seeing a giant like him capable of it always threw you off. The deafening bang the collar made as it was slung across the room and crashed against the far wall made your ears ring as it echoed back in the empty room.</p><p>Even if there were two more collars still in place - the uppermost one keeping the helmet in place - you felt like you were back on track. You watched him rub his shoulders and moan, muttering coyly to himself about something and laughing. He ran his claws over the overlapping metal of the helmet and he pointed, “Next.”</p><p>“Hold on, there’s still two more collars and your ankles-“</p><p>“Motherfucker, I told you I’d handle my ankles. I just need you to get off one more.”</p><p>You propped your hand on your hip and hummed dubiously. Was he honestly planning on breaking out of the helmet himself? Through what, brute strength? “You can’t break through metal.”</p><p>“Fuck you.” He pointed to his neck, “Back to work.”</p><p>“How much time do we have?”</p><p>“Enough to get one more off.”</p><p>You doubted that but didn’t feel like arguing. Sprawled over his back again, you went to work randomly spinning and jabbing. Once you found the first latch the others fell into place. You managed to get the second collar off just in time for the Highblood to snarl out a warning about the doors and take the tools.</p><p>You would be escaping in less than twenty-four hours for sure, no doubt about it. The last collar would come off. Then, the rest of the chains would be removed and you’d be sneaking out of here without the crazy bastard. “Tomorrow.” You told him sternly, holding back the nervousness in your belly. If you acted different when you went upstairs they would know something was up.</p><p>“Tomorrow.” He bit out with a wicked grin, still playing with the freed space around his neck. It was probably tender, rubbed raw long before this point. “Get your shit and get ready.”</p><p>“We should really talk about…” The door hissed and you snagged the cart, unable to stop the trembling of your fingers against the handle. You couldn’t speak once the door opened and shot him a pleading look, desperately hoping he would actually tell you what he was planning. </p><p>His eyes were shining brightly, his body shuffling with every grand breath. He was practically vibrating with what you hoped was excitement but knew was most likely bloodlust and that terrified you. </p><p>You wheeled the cart to the door and the guard led you upstairs, disappearing as you dropped off the cart as they always had. </p><p>You organized cans in a haze. There was no point to this now. Tomorrow you’d either escape or die trying. You took your time lining up each section and debated on stealing a few to help you get through a few days once you made it out. You were so close to the entrance though, the boarding dock not a couple hundred feet away. Stealing a truck would help get some distance between you and the prison but it was big. You weren’t sure how much protection they had or back-ups to keep inmates in place. You’d seen movies though and there were always helicopters surrounding giant prisons. A bright white truck like that would be easily spotted. If you were fast enough you’d be out of here before they could bring in a helicopter. </p><p> If the Highblood didn’t tell you his plan you'd try to get here and depending on how many guards were around you’d give it a shot. You’d try for a truck to distance yourself from the prison but it wouldn’t be long term. Someone would recognize the stolen vehicle eventually but it would do you good to put at least a couple miles between you and the police. </p><p>As soon as your purpose was over you found yourself circling the cells in search of Presic and Raikut, stumbling upon them outside among a group of their friends. Although they didn’t like you they did help you through obligation. You weren’t about to spill the beans but hopefully as a show of goodwill you could keep them from getting in trouble somehow. Maybe keep them away from the Highblood if he decides to take out anyone on his way out.</p><p>You returned to your chosen spot outside beside the prison and sat down, dismally hoping for Marklo to show up before you remembered he was gone. You thumped the back of your head against the wall and craned your neck to look up at the stars. If things went well you would never see them from this position again. You’d be able to look out in all directions and see freedom instead of chain link fences and fluorescent lights. No more guards patrolling but late night wanderers in search of something unknown.</p><p>You wouldn’t miss this place.</p><p>When Raikut and Presic headed inside you followed from a distance, memorizing their cell numbers for tomorrow. </p><p>You curled into a little ball in bed and found sleep impossible. If your nerves were frazzled you couldn’t imagine how the grand Highblood felt. Hopefully he remembered you two were on the same side and he wouldn’t turn that restless energy onto you. </p><p>You squeezed your eyes shut and stayed like that as if it prevented you from thinking about the hundreds of ways this could go horribly wrong.</p><p>Fortunately - or unfortunately - you fell asleep for maybe an hour before you were woken up and sent down below. The Highblood snatched the tools the second he recognized you. He wasn’t speaking, pupils blown wide he simply handed them over and moved away from the wall to let you get behind him.</p><p>Finagling was a fitting word for what you did. Your nerves kept you from properly catching the latch several times and the motionless silence coming from the Highblood made you want to speak but you had no words to say.</p><p>While spinning the lock you mentally counted how close you were to success with every latch unlocked and you found yourself frozen on the last one.</p><p>“Hey.” Your throat was dry and scratchy. You spun the lock incrementally - buying yourself time as self-preservation gave you enough strength to reconsider one final time. “We’re in this together, right?”</p><p>He inhaled slowly and you felt something tap against your ankle. “Open the lock, Trollhunter.”</p><p>Ah. Your name. </p><p>That was as good as it was going to get you supposed. </p><p>“As good as done.” A small spin and the latch caught and fell apart. You removed the tools and let it drop in front of him, eyeing the interlocking metal mesh at the base of his neck that helped hold the helmet shut. </p><p>Honestly, since all three locks attached to one another having one more on the helmet itself would be a bit much. His hands reached back to touch the chain link seam and his claws sank into the holes smoothly, breaking them apart with what you knew wasn’t much effort. Matted hair puffed out of the long seam as he pried it higher, breaking apart the rusted metal until the rest followed suit and it unfolded into two halves at the back.</p><p>You casually removed yourself from his vicinity and walked around to his front, curious about his reaction. His features slipped into darkness as his hands caught the helmet and he straightened, raising his head high enough that his horns slid against the ceiling and knocked into the single overhead light, dimming the room impossibly more.</p><p>“About <em> motherfucking </em>time!” He opened his mouth wide in a yawn that popped his jaw and you grimaced at the sheer amount of sharp teeth within that awful mouth. He had two larger canines that stuck out from his lip whenever he shut his mouth and he scrubbed his palms against his face, a strange stuttering sound rumbling out into the room. His nose - his cheeks - his mouth - you weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that this hell spawn...wasn’t ugly. You imagined a face to match that bad attitude of his not that he would be...you stopped that line of thinking very quickly. It was dark. Your eyesight wasn’t great. You were most likely imagining things to fill in the blanks.</p><p>“Are you ready, Lil’ Bitch?” It was strange seeing him smile. The way his face smoothly shifted to a wide grin and his mostly hidden eyes crinkling at the edges through the messy parts of his hair. “I know I fucking am.” He dropped the helmet and reached down to his ankles, his nail digging into the lock roughly.</p><p>“W-wait.” You hissed, stepping forward and catching yourself before you got too close. “Just let me-“</p><p>“I got it!” He flicked a hand to shoo you away and pointed to your chest. “You did your part.” His smile turned nasty, all teeth and gums, all hatred thinly trimmed with mirth. “Now I do as I <em> please </em>.”</p><p>You let the tools drop and curled your hands into fists, plastering on a face of calm indifference to hide how your gut squirmed as if you poisoned yourself. “And what is that? You never told me what you were going to do.”</p><p>His smile eased and he took a seat, stretching his arms high above his head so his tattered shirt lifted just enough to give you a peek at the darkened plane of his hip line. “I think it would be more fun if it were a surprise, don’t you?” </p><p>Okay. Truck escape it was. You couldn’t stop looking at him. Finally freed of the helmet, his hands kept leaving the cuffs on his ankles to muss up his hair. You heard bundles of strands rip and frowned in sympathy. You cleared your throat and worked on your lie. “Marklo told me a bit about where this prison is so once we get outside as long as I figure out which way north is I’ll know where we can start running.” He hummed and you could have sworn you saw the tip of one shredded ear flick from somewhere within that curly mane. “The entrance of the prison is to the west so we’ll want to leave east and work our way south. If we get too far we’ll reach the coast and we’ll be blocked off on one side so we should go as far south as we can and stay away from any main roads or cities until we can start heading west.”</p><p>“How will you tell which way is…” he paused, “Which way to get out of here?”</p><p>“North? The sun. I guess whichever direction you see the sun rise in we should head…” You caught yourself and quickly went into the fumble. “Left.” If it rose in the east as the old saying went, that would lead him straight to the uppermost corner of Maine and the ocean would stop him. All you had to do was get separated from him. You smiled. “If we get split up we can just meet in that direction. Think you can remember that?”</p><p>“Shut it.” He gave a full bodied shake and sat down heavily, his arm - no - leg - no? <em> Something </em>moved at his side and you squinted in the dim light at whatever it was. “Your sight is shit isn’t it?”</p><p>“Only in the dark.” You shot back irritably, still looking at whatever was shuffling in the shadows. “Is that...do you have a <em> tail </em>? Since when?”</p><p>That little outburst caused him to laugh and call you all sorts of cruel things in his language. It <em> was </em>a tail, quite long, with fur fluffing out into a billow at the end. You distantly remembered Marklo telling you such a thing happened but it wasn’t like you really believed him on their weird maturity. Wait, did that mean the ‘grub’ thing was real? Didn’t they eat grubs? You opened your mouth to ask and the Highblood was quick to cut you off. “You got your shit together, Lil’ Bitch?”</p><p>“No.” You quickly blurted, getting back on track. “I have to do something before we break out of here.”</p><p>“Well do it fast cause once I start I’m not stopping.” He stood and wandered into the darkest part of the room, his honey-colored eyes shifting to a lighter crimson. “Guard’s on their way.”</p><p>“W-wait.” This was really happening wasn’t it? Today? Now? “Why didn’t you just let me work on the rest of the locks and when the guard opens the door we can both-” </p><p>“Cause you wouldn’t have the time.” He tapped the side of his head, “Most important thing is that that fuckin’ helmet came off. And you did it, motherfucker.” One of his hands came out to point to the door and if by command the locks hissed. “See you soon.”</p><p>You stifled the nervous whine in your throat and put on a brave face, dragging the cart out into the hallway. The guard didn’t say a word on the way back upstairs and you kept your eyes off of them. Today was the day and he still hadn’t told you a thing. You’d been sleepless thinking of escapes, fully ready to tell him your ideas but he-</p><p>You shook your head. No. It wouldn’t matter after this. You would either escape by truck in the loading docks, out one of the guard exits at the gate and try to lose them in the forest...or you’d fail miserably and end up back here. The fourth option, which was actually successfully escaping with the Highblood, was so infinitesimal you didn’t even dwell on it after the initial thought.</p><p>You were shoved into the kitchen and desperately wished you were organizing inventory or washing clothes. You could be picking through the supplies and figuring out what you’d need to steal. You put in less energy into adding food and stirring than you usually would, debating on whether or not you’d swing back over here to steal a knife for protection but threw that idea away. You just needed new clothes to blend into public with, something to hide your tattoos, and to get as far away from this place as physically possible.</p><p>With your Purpose finished you headed to the observation room on the second floor for supplies, knocking your knuckles against the glass. “I want to buy some things.”</p><p>With what little money you had you bought a bandana, a new shirt, and a pair of shorts. You wanted a pair of sunglasses but you were just shy of affording everything. For the last remaining change you bought a can of coffee in hopes of it giving you an extra bit of energy. It was on the way downstairs after you left your things on your bed that you thought the trolls were quieter than usual. They would trail off mid-sentence and those with more mobile ears would flick theirs around briefly before going back to their conversation.</p><p>Now that you had a change of clothes you would head to the mess hall to eat but before that you had to speak to someone. On the main floor near the back of the cells you saw Presic’s room was empty but luckily they were both in the floor of Raikut’s room. You cleared your throat for attention and they froze, a single card from someone’s hand fluttering down among the spread between them. It was clear by their hard stares they didn’t want you here and honestly, you didn’t want to be here either. To try and dissipate the bad air you gestured to the cards. “Is that rummy?”</p><p>Time passed awkwardly in silence until Raikut glanced down at the cards and back to you. “It’s actually crazy eight-”</p><p>“Fuck off, Trollhunter.” Presic hissed, more annoyed than hostile. </p><p>“Please.” You tacked on quickly, holding up your empty hands to show them you weren’t a threat. “I just want to talk to you for a minute.” You waited for an answer and after a few words shot back and forth in a language you couldn’t understand, they stood, Presic standing with her arms crossed and Raikut taking a seat on his bed.</p><p>“I know you only put up with me for Marklo’s sake but it was still a nice gesture nonetheless.” You flicked your attention from one set of angry eyes to a skeptical set and down to the abandoned cards. Marklo tried to get the three of you to interact but it was clear they wouldn’t change their minds anytime soon. You weren’t sure whether to put up a tough-guy act or not and settled for a neutral: “As thanks, I want you guys to do something for me.”</p><p>Presic bared her teeth but Raikut’s hand shot out to grab her arm. She glared at him and after a few breaths, shrugged him off and put her hands on her hips. “What?”</p><p>“I want you guys to stay in your cell tonight.” They tensed. “Lock yourself inside so...you’re safe.”</p><p>Raikut stared unblinkingly and Presic stepped closer with a cock of her head. “What are you going to do?”</p><p>You bit your lip, still arguing with yourself over whether or not it was a good idea to warn them. “I’m not going to do anything. I have a bad feeling about tonight. That’s all.”</p><p>“<em> You </em> have a bad feeling?” Raikut let out a thoughtful sound and peered past you to the rest of the cell block, you could see the wrinkle on his forehead grow as he thought. “You weren’t afraid of coming to an all-troll prison...so what's got you scared now?”</p><p>“Scared enough to warn us and not watch out for yourself.” Presic added bitterly, “What’s the catch?”</p><p>Honesty was the best policy. “Marklo would be upset if anything happened to you. You’re the only ones he ever really spoke about.” You drew in a deep breath and watched them do the same. You didn’t know what else to say. You couldn’t tell them what was really going on in case they ratted you out to the guards but you didn’t trust the Grand Highblood to not do something...horrifying on his way out. You were already taking a risk warning them now. </p><p>“All right.”</p><p>You blinked owlishly and glanced between the two, Presic staring at Raikut in just as much shock and awe.</p><p>Raikut shrugged and settled himself back into the floor, picking up his cards and straightening them in his hand. “Come on, Presic, looks like it’s a night in.”</p><p>“Just like that?” She countered hesitantly.</p><p>He nodded and made a face, scanning over his hand again before he picked up the card that had fallen earlier. Presic balled her hands into fists and took a breath to relax, dropping to one knee but refusing to go any lower until you took a step back. Well, if the rest of the night went by this smoothly you would be in luck. </p><p>You took your leave and headed into the mess hall, grabbing a plate and taking a seat near the doors. More trolls were acting strangely, shuffling and looking around, making jokes to one another that fell flat or snapping at each other out of nowhere. With your little paper scooper for food still in your mouth you tried to tone out the guttural growls and hisses of the trollish language to pick out anything odd. Slowly noises that you normally heard came into focus. The clanging of the utensils in the kitchen by those serving food, the electric hum of the fluorescent lights high above and even the soft beating of your own heart.</p><p>As well as another thumping although very, very faintly. </p><p>You took your time eating, focusing on the taste of the food and the warmth to distract yourself from your nerves. It would be fine. You would be fine. You just had to run and never look back. You dumped off your tray in the receptacle and halfway back to your room to stretch there was a muffled bang so loud you could have sworn you felt the floor tremble.</p><p>The entire prison fell quiet as the lights flickered and came back on. You lingered on the stairs as several guards passed by and took the elevator down, two of which were carrying guns of a type you had never seen before. The inmates nearby loitered, shambling slowly as they wanted to know what was going on but trying not making it obvious. As much as you wanted to do the same you hurried back to your room and gathered what few things you had. </p><p>You used the shirt like a little satchel and set everything inside: soaps, shampoo, more clothes, and other little tidbits, tying together the bottom and looping the sleeves into knots so it was more or less contained. Another deep, muffled bang and you took a seat on the bed, blowing out a long breath through your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the calendar Marklo left you and pulled it into your lap. It would probably be smart to take this along as well. You could keep track of how long you’d been wandering and see when you should start preparing for winter. Although it was cool now you didn’t know how cold it would get in other states.</p><p>You flicked your thumb along the bottom and glimpsed over the pages, smiling at his horrid scrawl and notes. On the last two months two buildings were simplistically drawn with a little smile over them and the words “Warrenpa” and “Rohobosusde”. A snake was drawn with lines scoring the body and the rhyme “red against black black can kill jack while red against yellow can kill a fellow” scratched out beneath it and the words “Stay away from snakes” underlined beneath. Before you could investigate the rest of the words a shrill squeal came from outside of the cell and you quickly stuffed the calendar into your poorly made backpack. </p><p>You made it to the metal bars in time to be pushed aside by two more guards rushing by and followed them to a large crowd. Officers and inmates alike were gathered at the opening of the short hall that led to the elevator and the horrendous noises came from inside the shaft. With everyone’s attention drawn to the doors you casually - albeit a little faster than you normally walk - made your way downstairs and tried heading back along the main corridor that led to storage.</p><p>A shrilling scrape so sharp and blaring had you and nearly everyone in the block wincing. Bodies rustled against yours as they tried backing away from the sound and you found yourself turned around facing the elevator hallway once more. Four long, dark fingers pushed through the split in the elevator doors followed by four more. The doors strained and groaned as they were forced apart, the darkness within revealing the demonic squint of two blazing red eyes.</p><p>A burst of strength had him slamming open the elevator doors, sparks from the scraping metal sprinkling down onto the tile and a billow of rust floating just above. Then, <em> he </em>stepped out, red covering his tattered shirt and hands, his mouth and chin stained crimson. His voice rang out at such a volume you could feel it in your chest even if you didn’t understand the words. It was a warning - a call - </p><p>A death sentence.</p><p>The room lit up in a flurry of panicked movement and you, being significantly weaker than every troll there, were thrown around and almost trampled by the fleeing bodies. You hugged your bundle close and barely managed to make it to the edge of the cells when the alarms started blaring. Yellow lights flashed at the corners of the room and you used them as a guide for the exits. </p><p>The room was in chaos. Roars and shrieks lit up behind you like wails of the damned and several slaps reminded you of the noise Mayron’s body made as it hit the floor when he fell over the edge of the second story. Only this was much louder, the impact meatier and the screams <em> terrifyingly full of pain </em>. The Highblood could very well kill you here while he was lost in the bloodlust and that thought sent your own nerves ablaze, your fingers curling so hard against the fabric of your shirt you felt the clothing nearly rip. </p><p>Many inmates, much like yourself, refused to look back and scrambled for safety, barreling through the hallways and crawling under their beds to hide. You spotted a swarm of guards running toward you from down the corridor with a variety of guns and backpedalled, whipping around to try down another hallway. You felt someone’s horn clip your cheek as they ran by and stumbled into someone’s back when they shoved you aside. The intercom popped on with a crackle and two voices began speaking, one in trollish and the other english for inmates to return to their cells or face fatal consequences. </p><p>No one was listening. You saw six or so guards start battering inmates into their cells and spotted an opening, lunging for the space between the bodies.</p><p>Someone hit you not two steps forward and you landed hard, chest aching from the hard impact of landing on your meager belongings. You shoved yourself upright and saw Presic’s terrified face, her mouth in a fearful gasp. “What are you doing here?!” You shrieked, getting to your feet and pulling her with you. “I told you to stay inside!”</p><p>“I was grabbing something from my cell…” Her own hand was on your forearm, tight and trembling she was staring at the chaos in horror. “The Highblood- he- <em> how-” </em></p><p>You slapped her hand from your arm and shoved her toward the cells, using your weight to pressure her into walking away from the mayhem.  “Just get inside and-“</p><p>A darkened object flew across the room before you and struck the wall with a wet crack. You saw it out of the corner of your eye but refused to look at the spread of pale yellow dripping down the wall. A shadow overcame you both and you turned to look back, Presic taking a stumbling step backwards as the Highblood stepped forward with a manic grin across his face. He was covered in a rainbow of colors and your stomach flipped with the knowledge that every bit of it was blood that belonged to someone different. </p><p>His eyes were tinted purple, his body slouched with some large, misshapen thing in his clutches. You’d never seen those eyes before - maybe that was some new level of rage for trolls. Maybe it meant he finally snapped. He croaked something out toward Presic that had her stuttering out a broken sound and you fumbled with something to say. </p><p>This was stupid. The horrid, idiotic urge to try and save her life. The Highblood wasn’t even paying attention to you. You could run and leave her to him to buy yourself time and distance yourself from this atrocious mess. She didn’t even like you - she didn’t listen to you this was her own fault - but she did save you from Mayron. When the Highblood’s eyes fluttered to a casual, half-lidded gaze and his dripping hand began to reach toward her you realized you owed her for saving your life. </p><p>Steeling your quivering hands and fighting off the heat that swelled up behind your eyes, you slapped on your brave face and placed yourself between the two of them. His purple eyes locked onto you instantly and froze you to the spot. He was still in there somewhere, hopefully, even smothered by the madness and hatred. Blood vessels along the edges of his eyelids were a black you had only seen in your nightmares and you were about five seconds from running for your own life and leaving Presic on her own. “<em> No </em>.” You told him sternly, trying to hide the terror you felt from facing down the monster you were trying to escape. “Not her.”</p><p>His smile slipped from his face but returned equally nasty. His pupils shrank from slits to wide discs and back again, his brows furrowing hard enough to crease his forehead in several harsh lines. In the span of one slow blink, his features dropped to smug indifference and he chuckled, his low laughter turning into full-blown cackling. Fortunately, he turned and continued his butchering mayhem elsewhere, leaving the two of you alone.</p><p>You felt your chest ache something vicious and whipped around, wanting to keep up your fearless facade but that - facing down the Highblood with nothing to hold him back but his word - left you feeling like jelly. You weren’t sure when you grabbed Presic but you had to convince yourself to let her go once you did. “G-get back to the cell.”</p><p>She was in a trance. She followed blindly and Raikut snatched her when he spotted her coming from the crowd. “What the fuck is going on?”</p><p>You weren’t going to explain. You left her to him and hoped they’d listen to you this time. The guards were still fortunately busy trying to corral other fleeing inmates and narrowly avoiding one rampaging troll gave you just enough time to see that there were trolls fighting each other. You didn’t take much time to think of the why’s and took it for face value, sprinting down the hallway as fast as you could. Surely the prison had enough trolls to kill the Highblood if they worked together instead of killing each other. Maybe they would realize that before it was too late. </p><p>You found yourself at the doors for the supply warehouse and cracked open the door to peek inside. A few items such as clipboards, cans and bags littered the floor alongside an abandoned mop or two and you guessed they left in a hurry. Good. You slipped between the metal shelves and saw two small trucks parked nearby at the unloading docks, their backs still open. </p><p>The alarms were still blaring and you heard muffled shouts but no one came around the warehouse. You sent a silent thanks above to whoever was listening and tried the doors, finding them locked. You scrambled into the doorway that lead to a small breakroom and scanned the tables, hoping someone left behind keys of any sort. Unfortunately, other than half-eaten food and a phone or two, you couldn’t find keys for the trucks. Hurrying back around you grabbed the nearest hard object - a bit of metal with a notch at the top to pull the farther cans toward the edge - back with you. One hard swing and the window broke, the alarm shrilling just as loud as the ones coming from the prison. </p><p>Reaching past the broken glass to unlock the door, you tossed your clothing into the drivers side seat and dropped to your knees to tear out the bottom of the console. It took a bit of effort, the metal holding at first but popping off after a few tugs. While you had seen people hotwire cars in movies you had no recollection of ever doing so yourself and craned your neck to squint at the internals. Perhaps it would be easier to figure out once you saw what the wires were connected to, surely you would know a battery or connector when you saw it and dug around inside to move the pieces apart.</p><p>A screaming voice from behind made you flinch and one of the wires came ripping out. “Get away from the truck!”</p><p>You weren’t given any time to even think before a deafening bang sent you on your behind and a bullet shot through the drivers side door. Whether it had been a warning shot or a missed one, you thrust your hands into the air quickly and saw a trio of guards start upon you, two furious humans and one frothing troll. “Hands behind your head!”</p><p>This couldn’t be the end. You hadn’t even seen the outside yet. All of your planning, all of the stress and pain and anxiety, this couldn’t be it.</p><p>You bit the tip of your tongue and decided to play along for now. You could still escape as long as you were alive. Putting your hands behind your head you had no way of protecting yourself when one slammed their boot in the middle of your ribs. It stole the air from your lungs and you fell back, struggling to breathe as hands grappled your arms and someone grabbed a fistful of your hair to shove your face into the concrete road. The click of handcuffs and the pinch of your back awkwardly jammed into a weird angle against your spine made you squirm and one of them punched you in the face for your actions. The screech of ‘stop moving’ did little to calm you down.</p><p>You felt them roll you on your stomach and one of the handcuffs latched around your wrist when the body over yours...cracked? It was an odd sound, like a thud and a crunch mixed together. You barely stifled a yelp when someone stepped on you immediately after. The guards were a flurry of movements and their shouts overlapping with at least six more voices. You glanced over your shoulder and saw one wrestling a burly troll that looked like she could easily get the upper hand if not for the second guard intervening. It seemed as though a new group of inmates had spilled from the hallway into the storage warehouse. After shooting the troll dead the guards had turned their attention from you to the numerous threats and you watched them take down two more before running for cover as the inmates began to chase them down. </p><p>What <em> luck </em>. You pushed yourself upright to stand and felt the weight on your lower half slip as the body of the guard fell over. The sight took you off guard, a sickening sensation welling in your throat at the wide splattering of wet hair and blood smeared across the side of the truck. He was missing a portion of his face, a jagged cropping of bloodied teeth and a shattered cheekbone, everything from his eye socket up completely removed. The troll had swung something to bash in the head of the guard and by the looks of it she swung with everything she had. Whoever they were they had a clear vendetta with the man since they would have had to go around the other two to get to him.</p><p>You tore your eyes away quickly and got to your feet, a shiver running down your spine at the warm sensation on your pants from the blood. This truck was a no-go. Between the blood and the bullet hole you wouldn’t get far unnoticed. </p><p>The sirens whooped into a new octave outside and dogs howled in the distance, inmates shouting and bellowing not far behind. Looks like you weren’t the only one trying to break out. Then again, maybe they were just trying to escape the slaughter going on inside. You patted down the man’s body and tried to push aside the fact you were stealing from a corpse as you plucked the wallet free. His body was still warm. There was a picture of an old woman inside next to a coupon for pizza.</p><p>You dropped the wallet and fumbled to pick it back up but it was hard - your hands - they wouldn’t stop shaking. This man had a family. He might have had someone waiting for him to come home and now he never would. You flicked aside the wallet and grabbed all the bills you could inside, scrambling over yourself to get as far away from him as possible. You didn’t want to be around him anymore. You may not have killed this man but you knew the imagery of his mangled face would stick with you for some time.</p><p>You had to backpedal to grab your bundle unfortunately, your thoughts skipping and tumbling as terror threatened to consume your mind. You couldn’t leave yet. Even if you couldn’t use the truck - you weren’t about to try your luck again on the other - you could still get something out of this. You ran back into the little break room and tried the lockers, tearing each open until you found a backpack. You tossed out the contents and jammed your things inside, the sound of gunfire making your heart skip a beat with every muffled bang. You threw in a tiny radio, whatever unopened food you saw and pilfered the drawers around the sink for anything useful. A knife, a spoon, a can opener. All yours now and safely zipped up and away.</p><p>You ran back to the door and listened for a moment, hearing shouting, more gunfire, then a brief silence before cheering started. The cheering sounded like more than two voices. </p><p>On the one hand that meant the guards wouldn’t be a threat any longer. On another, that meant the inmates now had at least two or three guns to use for themselves. </p><p>You cracked open the door and saw a troll staring directly at you, blood on his face, his lip split apart. You braced yourself for the worst and boldly tossed the door open, maintaining eye contact while still hiding partially behind the wall.</p><p>The troll turned his attention elsewhere and ran off so you took the chance to escape. There was no exit in the break room beside the door you came from so it would be easy to get cornered. You snatched a few more cans of food on the way, mindful of the weight and noise it would make while you ran and took the chance of heading outside. </p><p>You had planned to use the sun to guide your path, the clouds to gauge the weather, but since it was the dead of night you had nothing to go by. The yard was lit up with spotlights and beams similar to those at football games that revealed every darkened corner of the prison. You saw trolls out here still fighting one another - to the death - they bludgeoned their fellow inmates bare handedly or with whatever they found lying around. The grass was a technicolor mess like an artist's abandoned paint pallets. The amount of motionless bodies sprinkled around the courtyard made you take several steps back toward the warehouse. Bullet wounds, gashes, slashes and more, you couldn’t find a body that had been injured in the same way twice. None of these trolls had a quick and painless death. </p><p>A flurry of motion ahead caught your attention, a pack of dogs were being released near another Block and despite taking down one or two trolls it was clear the feral, brute strengths of the canines were no match for the inmates. You retreated inside to avoid the dogs that would tear you to pieces and avoided the loudest of shouts and howls. It was easy to get lost in a place you hadn’t been before but luckily you found another way outside after wandering the endless hallways. More infighting was happening behind you and you watched a grand swarm of trolls force their way another another Block.</p><p>This was chaotic. You had wanted a swift getaway but this would draw the attention of everyone in the vicinity. You didn’t know if prisons could call for backup but if they could this one surely had.</p><p>You had to move faster.</p><p>Across the open yard just in front of the guard tower were two chain link fences, both with a solid foot or more of barbed wire curling over the top. You needed something to protect your hands from the metal and scoured the inside of the building, finding most of the doors locked other than a break room, a bathroom, storage closet and one made you pause at the sight of bloody footprints leading away from the door. Was this someone’s office? Did an inmate take revenge on a particular guard inside? You braced yourself, knowing you had to check in case there was a rug or a jacket you could use for the fence, and opened the door.</p><p>Surprisingly, it was a security room. A large pool of blood was just beneath a chair in front of twenty or so monitors and it was hard to focus on one screen when so much was happening. Other than a handful of monitors they all had inmates running rampant, charging at top speed all across the prison in every direction to destroy everything in their path. Fires had broken out in the kitchen and mess hall, the blazing inferno somehow spreading into other sections of the building despite the sprinklers on full blast. Other hallways had black smoke filling up the upper half of the screen, whatever flames going on behind doors spilling out into the corridor little by little.</p><p>A hard electrical squeak made you whip around to spot a walkie talkie underneath the monitor desk. It was broken, drenched in red blood, but despite the static you could almost make out someone speaking. You turned the volume of the little transmitter lower and clipped it onto your backpack in the off chance you heard something important.</p><p>One last look at the screens and you spotted two connecting hallways that lead upstairs void of any danger. All you had to do was get there and get out before anyone arrived. You started off in a sprint but forced yourself to slow down to conserve your energy. You still had to run away from the prison if you made it outside of the walls. </p><p>Upstairs more of the doors were locked but one contained another break room with lockers and you found a few jackets you could use. Back downstairs, through the hallway, you came across a few raging inmates. They paid you no mind as they followed the sound of mayhem. These also had tinted purple eyes, their faces eerily blank of any emotion regardless of their aggressive postures.</p><p>You shoved open a set of double doors to get back to the fence and stopped dead at the sight of the Highblood standing tall outside. You had seen him hunched over, shoulders slumped and head low - but never completely upright.</p><p>He was enormous. As big as you imagined, his shoulders were wide, his chest massive and legs strong enough to break apart even the strongest of doors. He wasn’t lying when he said captivity didn’t keep him still. You could see how he broke out of the basement. His head was thrown back up at the starry sky and when the doors shut his tail flicked to the side and he turned around. Those cruel, darkened eyes narrowed into little slits and dilated at the sight of you. </p><p>He was motionless. Standing barefoot in the grass it was like the wind itself decided to stop blowing to give him the illusion of a statue. He was gone. Mentally tapped out. Even outside this felt like the two of you were still underground and you had to snap him out of his haze before he turned his madness onto you.</p><p>You drew in a small breath and spoke as loud as you dared, softly and carefully. “Highblood?”</p><p>His lips peeled back in an ugly smile and you just like that the nervousness in your gut turned into full blown terror. </p><p>You didn’t even see him react before you were back inside running down the hallway as fast as you possibly could. Your heavy footsteps echoed with every hard smack of your shoes against the tile. You heard the doors slam open and instantly you could hear him chasing after you, a hard pant turning into gleeful laughter.</p><p>Fuck this. Fuck <em> him </em>. You knew this would happen. You trusted him as much as you did a rabid animal and you should have been more careful to avoid him. He was gaining, his breathing getting louder, those stupid puffs of laughter making you push yourself hard enough that you almost tripped over yourself. You fled down two hallways before a group of five or so inmates blocked your exit, causing you to run down another path you don’t remember going. </p><p>Another set of doors revealed a plethora of guards corralling inmates and at this point you would rather deal with them than the Highblood. One tried to grab you but you were still running for your life, taking the stairs two at once until you knocked your foot against one misjudged step and fell forward on your hands and knees. You crawled up the remaining steps and got back upright by the time the Highblood broke through the doors. The guards decided to take down the biggest threat in the room and turned their full attention to him.</p><p>It sounded like the shooting was short lived, however, but you weren’t about to see why. You had come across another Cell Block Division and prayed this layout was like the one you were used to.</p><p>“Fuckin’ <em> Bitch </em>.”</p><p>The Highblood’s hands wrapped around your body and you dealt with enough harassment to bring your arms up to protect your face as you were bashed into the ground. Your wrist felt like it snapped out of place thanks to the cuffs and your legs curled awkwardly out to the sides. He gave you one hard shove into the floor and yanked you toward him, his hand sliding up to your neck to hold you as his other fell away.</p><p>The pressure was sharp. Your hands scrambled against his wrist, the marks of the cuffs making his skin discolored but still so much thicker than your own no matter how hard you struck his forearm or clawed at his flesh nothing was working. He carried you a short distance and started muttering in his language, slamming you against the wall behind you. You saw stars as the back of your head cracked against concrete and your eyes began to water. Air couldn’t fill your lungs fast enough. The pressure against your trachea made you want to gag but you couldn’t get enough oxygen to even cough. </p><p>You started to splutter and felt saliva dribble down your mouth, your legs bending to push up against the wall to your back to lessen the weight on your neck. </p><p>The Highblood just watched. He paused in his rambling to stare at your gaping mouth and desperate hands before he started again in a louder voice, fingers easing up ever so slightly. There was a hollowness behind you whenever your kicks landed against the wall and when you started to slide down from his loosened grip you took the chance to breathe.</p><p>You wanted to cry but held back the tears - you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He kept talking, eyes sliding behind you to stare at something you couldn’t see. </p><p>Air filled your body sluggishly and once it had the fear running through you ran its course. If you died you wouldn’t go quietly.</p><p>“Fuck you!”  You spat, holding onto the rage as closely as possible. You clawed at his arms again and wished you could wiggle free just to bite him. “I don’t even understand you, you <em> idiot </em> ! Rot in <em> fucking hell </em> you piece of <em> shit </em> - ugly fucking - smelly bastard - fuckin’ stupid-“</p><p>His hand moved so fast you almost didn’t see it. He shoved your face to the side fast enough the whiplash caused an electric agony to rippled along your side. You couldn’t open one of your eyes because of the pressure of his palm but you could squint enough with the other to see the horrified reaction of three officers locked away in the observatory room. You wanted to curse them too - to damn them for hiding away like this and just watching.</p><p>The three trolls were focused on the Highblood speaking and when one opened their mouth you did the same and tried your best to bite his palm. A hard grinding on the pinch of cold flesh you caught between your teeth was enough to catch him off guard. The pressure against your face was released but success short lived as he gave you a rough toss behind him where you tumbled and rolled across the floor. </p><p>The Highblood was still at the observation room so you went back to running. The greater the distance between you the better.</p><p>You had to backtrack for the jackets you dropped when you were grabbed and found them a few hundred feet apart, snatching both and heading back outside.</p><p>Then the lights went off. </p><p>The entire prison went silent for one endless second before the emergency lights came on, shrouding only the edges of the prison in a dim red glow. You could hardly see like this, walking forward with a hand outstretched as your eyes slowly adjusted.</p><p>When you made contact with the fence you unzipped one of the jackets and slung it up and over the top section, luckily getting it successfully on the second try. You tied the second jacket around your waist and your shoes were too big to fit through the chain links so you chucked them over the top to grab once you made it to the other side. Your toes were much better at helping climb and you quickly patted around the jacket to look for safe handholds.</p><p>Unfortunately, the jacket helped cushion some of the jagged barbs but not all of them. Your stomach was scratched up a bit, your limbs poked and bleeding, but still better than it could have been. You were at the very top, ready to climb down as the fence violently shook and you lost your grip.</p><p>You landed hard on the other side the exact moment an explosion caused the entire area to light up as though it were the middle of the day.</p><p>An entire Block began to cave in over itself, chunks falling apart towards one side of the heaviest damage, smoke filling up the sky fast enough the stars were starting to go dark. Other lights started to shine and paired with a few moving, glowing dots you were pretty sure those were the helicopters you wondered about.</p><p> You stared for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of even trying to escape at this point and sat upright. This hasn’t gone in any shape or form of how you planned. Tens of people, no doubt at least a hundred or more were dead, guards and inmates alike. You were already banged up and bleeding, almost murdered by the Highblood and guards. </p><p>You weren’t a serial killer before coming to this place but there was no doubt all of this blood was on your hands. </p><p>If you didn’t release the Highblood none of this would have happened. </p><p>The weight of everything began to settle on your shoulders as the sound of the helicopters grew closer and you stood, gathering your shoes and slipping them on with a wince. </p><p>Looking up at the second fence you had to scale you wondered if you’d even have the strength to go on and find another exit through the guard towers. If they were locked you couldn’t break them down.</p><p>Turning to look back to the inferno that was once a Block you saw a brief glimpse of a broken wall between the flickering lights and smoke.</p><p>...</p><p>You ran your hands over your face and found yourself walking forward. You’d come too far to turn back now. The least you could do was see this through even if everything had been against you from the start.</p><p>You adjusted the straps on your backpack and hurried along, the sound of your jingling cuffs slowly being drown out by the crackles of flames and the throttling blades of helicopters not too far off. </p><p>The sheer amount of fire exuded enough heat to keep you from getting close to the building, not that you’d want to get any closer at all, the whole thing looked like it would collapse any moment. Odd flickers of colored fire would spring up and die out, smaller, muffled explosions happening somewhere deeper down. While the wall surrounding the prison had crumbled, you had to take a run and jump to even reach the shortest ledge, the jagged ends biting your fingers as you tried grabbing onto anything, the soles of your shoes unable to find anything to push off from. It took a bit of effort and you fell twice, nerves lighting again as the helicopters were practically on top of you, the spotlights scouting the ground and buildings on their approach. </p><p>Almost to freedom, this final hurdle was all you needed to overcome to actually escape. You felt a small jutting of rebar in the wall and a poor idea sprang into your mind as you clutched the cuff link. You could break your wrist but…</p><p>On another lunge you tossed the other end of the cuff blindly and thought it didn’t wrap around the rebar until you gave it a pull. With one hand clutching the links for dear life and the other pulled closer to your chest, you managed to get just enough leverage to swing your legs over the side and scramble over. </p><p>A vast expense of green grass stretched several hundred yards before the forest began and this never felt more like a finish line. A stream of light flicked across the field and you glanced up, hunkering low and slipping off onto the other side with a none-too-gentle thump. </p><p>All you had to do was make it to the forest and avoid the spotlights. The forest was so thick, surely the helicopters wouldn’t find you. You got to your feet and started to run, pacing yourself and checking the ground periodically so you wouldn’t trip on anything, neck throbbing from the earlier whiplash as you scanned the sky.</p><p>Halfway there. Halfway and not a helicopter on this side of the prison. Not a single inmate to hold you back.</p><p>You had done it. </p><p>You escaped.</p><p>The forest started to grow large as you approached and one peek to the stars above showed empty air. </p><p>All right, time to start your new life on the lamb. You had a few bucks from the unmentionable wallet you found. You had some new clothes, a few bits of food. The next step-</p><p>The air suddenly felt wrong and with another explosion you went against every rule in the book to look back.</p><p>The Highblood was perched on the broken section of the wall. His head whipped back and forth across the field once before it settled on you, two shapeless dark lumps clutched in his hands.</p><p>It was disgusting how quickly he moved. Obscene in the way his long legs carried him smoothly over the field directly at you at such a speed. You ran despite it all, into the forest over fallen branches, weaving around trees and logs in hopes of him losing sight of you.</p><p>His bellowing cackle sent you in a panic and you shrieked when his arm slipped across your stomach to pluck you from the ground. The violent jostling from his continued run was disorienting enough to keep you from fighting him off. You held on against your better judgement and fought off the urge to vomit as you were squeezed too tightly and shaken like a maraca. </p><p>He covered terrain in half of the time it would have taken you on your own. “Which way Lil’ Bitch?”</p><p>You were slung around and plopped down in front of him, vertigo making you stumble when you tried to step back. “S...south?”</p><p>“Which way is that?”</p><p>You turned your head up stupidly. The stars were still bright above you and the helicopters droning no longer directly above. “I...I don’t know. I need the sun-“</p><p>“Then we keep going until your sun rises.” He started walking and you fumbled to catch up, thrown off by his willingness to speak. “You said it’ll take a couple weeks to get there?”</p><p>That was just an estimate. “If everything goes right…”</p><p>“It better.”</p><p>The ensuing silence felt awkward on your part. This man just tucked you wonder his arm like a football and now acted like he hadn’t almost killed you a few times inside. The lumps you saw earlier were two duffle bags bulging at the seams. </p><p>“Can we talk about what just-“</p><p>“Motherfucker you have no idea how good it feels to be out of that fuckin’ hole.” He stretched his shoulders and popped his back, twisting and testing out every muscle along his arms and neck. </p><p>He was covered in blood. From red to green, brown and yellow and everything in between and more. His disgusting clothes fully caked in a variety of fluids the duffle bags started to make you nervous.</p><p>“And a fuckin’ workout right after?” He laughed as though he told a funny joke, his words lowering to a smooth rumble. “I needed that.”</p><p>He murdered countless. He broke bodies and destroyed at least a fourth of a prison. You didn’t know how he could have collapsed a cell Block but you knew he had something to do with it. What even caused him to stop while he was ahead? Was it the helicopters? The fire?</p><p>You couldn’t stop eying the bundles.</p><p>“What’s in the bags?” </p><p>He grunted, “A whole lot of shit. I’ll show you when we get farther - I don’t wanna be next to this fuckin’ place any longer.”</p><p>The ground beneath your shoes was uneven. Naked bushes and stalks scratched at your palms when you walked and twice brambles caught on your pant legs before you decided to just walk behind the Highblood and follow in his massive footprints. Hopefully it would rain soon so it would be harder for them to follow you or dogs to trace your scent. The trees would do a good job of hiding you from any spotlights but right now it didn’t seem like they were coming after you. A problem for later, then.</p><p>It was hard to tell how much time passed. If the breakout happened as early into the night as you thought it would still be several long hours before the sun rose. Your eyesight adjusted to the darkness as best as it could but having the Highblood leading the way made traveling much easier. You wanted to see the sun again - have it’s warmth on your skin and know it was right there above you instead of masked behind layers and layers of concrete and foundation.</p><p>You’d feel a cooling breeze...smell some flowers…you’d stand outside and do nothing in particular just to yourself live again. </p><p>“Pick up the pace, Lil’ Bitch, I want to get back to my planet.”</p><p>You’d just have to do something about the Highblood first.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Awful Clown Man ruins everything but somehow everything still works out: more at 11. </p><p> </p><p>Full disclosure, the next chapter might come out late cause I've got some stuff to take care of but if anything I might just upload a smaller one. Not sure yet.<br/>But you guys have no idea how excited I am to finally write the 'Road Trip' part of this story I live for the drama and angst you don't even know. ( ❛ᴗ❛ )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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